What Did You Do?
by my mulligan
Summary: Waking up in pain and confused, our two favorite CSI's have to deal with the repercussions of a drunken night out.
1. Chapter 1

Post ep (sort of) Kiss Before Frying

A/N. I own nothing but a beat up PT and a cranky three legged dog.

**What Did You Do?**

**Chapter One**

Nick Stokes cracked one eye open and swore softly. This was really, really not good. He was, apparently, naked. And in insane pain. The little bit of light streaming though the crack in the black out curtains hurt his eyes. His very hair seemed to hurt his head. Then it got worse. A groan came from somewhere behind him. He braved the light induced pain to scan for his weapon, his phone, even his clothes, only to come up empty. He chanced a look over his left shoulder at the unknown groaner and instantly recognized the permanent scars lacing his bed mates back.

"Greg?"

Another groan from underneath a pillow was his only reply. Irrational irritation coupled with relief that he wasn't (probably) in danger goaded his series of backwards kicks at his fellow CSI, punctuating his diatribe; "Why are you here? What did you do to me? What the fuck did you do?"

Greg punctuated this diatribe/kick with his own series of "Stop it! Fucking stop it would you? Fucking OWW!"

Greg, sprawled spread eagle and face down, pulled the pillow back over his head and took inventory. First of all, he fucking hurt. Everywhere. But everything seemed to be where it belonged at least. He pulled at one corner of the pillow and surveyed his unwilling bedfellow. Nick held the crook of his elbow over his eyes and his face held an expression that Greg couldn't honestly say he'd ever seen on the man before.

"Okay, one, this, I'm pretty sure, is my place not yours, so that's why I'm here. And B, unless your ass is sore and _fuck…sticky_…then I think I'm the one who should be asking what _you _did to _me_. And 3, the last thing I remember is you telling that red-headed waitress you were flirting with to leave the bottle. Fucking tequila. Never fucking again I swear on my GCMS and all that is holy." Greg tried to prop up his head on his hands and grimaced. "On the plus side, judging from the fact that I'm stuck to the sheets, I apparently had a good time, too."

Nick shook his head slowly from side to side slowly, panic starting to well up in him. "No, no, no, not again. I'll have to quit my job and move to fucking Alaska. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck. _Oh my god, I'm gonna be sick." He shot up and headed for the door to the bathroom.

"Very flattering, thanks. Good to know that the idea of sex with me makes you nauseous. Maybe that's why I have such great luck with these types of things. Maybe I should just become a monk or something."

"Shut up, Greg. Seriously, please, just shut it." preceding the sound of retching. Greg grimaced and tasted his own bile. Greg heard the flush and then realized he had to pee like a racehorse. Damn. He snatched a pair of boxer briefs from the floor and threw them on, wondering why they seemed too big. He realized they weren't his, blushed a bit, shrugged and stood on wobbly legs to follow Nick's path to the bathroom, to find him on the floor across from the toilet, elbows on knees and face in hands.

"Dude, I gotta go. Your choices are stay for the show or leave, 'cause I'm not pulling an Ashton and using the kitchen sink."

From behind his hands Nick groaned and said "Just go, man. I don't think I can move."

Greg used the facilities, marveling slightly that he could actually hold that much, flushed and splashed some cold water on his hands and face. He stepped out into the dark hallway and returned a few moments later with a bottle of water from the fridge. He opened the medicine cabinet, pulled out the aspirin, and downed a few with half the water. He shook a couple more onto his palm and stooped down to push them into Nick's hands, along with the water bottle. "Here. If you can keep it down, it may help. I'm going to go make coffee and see if I've got any food. You're car's not here, so once we're actually sober, we'll take a cab to the lab and get mine, then go find yours. I'll be in the kitchen. I think we may need to talk about this."

Nick nodded, face still in hands. Once Greg left the room he dragged his hands slowly down his face and picked up the water bottle, downing the rest of the cold water and the aspirin. "We need to talk." Yay. Every guys least favorite sentence in the universe. Speaking of the universe, Nick wondered what the hell he had done lately to piss it off. How had comforting a friend over a screwed up almost-relationship and not-really breakup lead to this? He just hated seeing Greg so dejected and insecure. That chick really did a number on his self esteem and Nick hated her for it. He hated himself for instigating it, too. But how did comforting a friend end up with them hung over, naked, and in bed together? He should have never had that first shot, just stuck with the light beer. But Greg had goaded him into it. Fuck it, he should know better than to drink heavily around anyone he cared for. And he did. Care. For Greg. Not that he had ever had any intention of acting on those feelings, because that could only end badly. Because Greg was certainly straight. And a colleague. And straight. Wasn't he? Now that Nick thought about it, Greg didn't seem as upset as he was about what had happened.

Nick spent a few more moments in self flagellation, then a few more moments determining whether or not he could make it to the kitchen without retching. Eventually, he decided to risk it and pushed himself up the wall and out the door towards the kitchen and the smell of coffee brewing.

Greg turned from the stove as Nick stumbled into the room and dropped heavily into a kitchen chair. He eyed him warily and lifted an appraising eyebrow. "I think my Star Wars jammies look better on you than on me." He cocked half a grin and put a steaming cup of coffee in front of the scowling man. Nick unconsciously drew a deep breath of coffee steam gratefully in and let out a long blissful sigh. "God, I love your coffee." He knew it would probably have two sugars in it, too, just the way he liked it. That fact hurt somewhere behind his heart for a moment. If this thing went as badly as it could, he was really going to miss this man. Nick cautiously sipped at the steaming coffee, lost in his thoughts. Eventually a plate appeared in front of him.

"We got lucky, I had eggs. No bacon though, sorry."

"I didn't know you could cook, G."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Nicky." He sat across from Nick and sipped at his coffee and picked at some toast while Nick realized how hungry he was and that cheesy scrambled eggs with onions and peppers might be the best hangover food, ever. Once Nick showed signs of slowing down, Greg dove head first into dangerous waters. "We gonna talk about this?"

"Yeah. I'm really sorry Greg. Look, if this makes you uncomfortable, I'll switch shifts. I don't know how I let this happen. I just….I'm just really sorry."

"You said you couldn't believe this was happening again. What was that about? "

Nick dragged is fork slowly through the remains of his eggs as he gathered his thoughts. Without looking up he quietly asked Greg if he knew why he'd left the DFW PD.

"No. I never wanted to pry. I always wondered though. A lot of times at a scene you seem to have more of a cop vibe going than a CSI vibe, if you know what I mean. It seems like sometimes you miss being a cop."

Nick sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "I made a pass at my partner."

Greg's jaw went slack. That seemed so unlike Nick. "Was she hot?" he asked, hoping for a casual tone.

"_He _was. He was also my best friend and married. He didn't take it to HR but he did request a different shift and a new partner. He told me to forget about it, but said that maybe DFW PD was not the best place for someone of 'my preferences.' That's when I started putting in resumes in other cities and swore off hard alcohol." Nick grimaced. "And now I've gone and stepped in it again. I can't believe what I've risked. My career, my health, you…. Greg, I've got to ask you, did you sleep with Ellen? Did you use protection? "

Greg's emotions cycled from curiosity to irritation to anger. "No, I didn't sleep with her. If I had, I would have used protection. Apparently I'm only stupid enough to not use protection with you, jack-ass. And how about you? Been tested recently? Because, as I recall, you were the one on record as sleeping with a hooker."

Nick winced. "I'm sorry Greg. Look, I'm going to go ahead and call a cab. And I'll just stay away from you, okay? And yeah, so you know, I've been tested once every six months since Christy. And there hasn't been anyone since her. I'll put in a transfer request tomorrow, see if I can't get switched to days. If not, I'll pull up my resume and start looking for something else." Nick felt the bile rising in his throat again, this time for totally different reasons. He shrugged out of the kitchen chair without looking Greg in the face, afraid of the disgust he knew he would find there and went in search of his clothes, phone and wallet. Pulling his wallet out of his jeans pocket he discovered he had no cash. Fuck, it just keeps getting better and better. He pulled out his cell and dialed Warrick's number. "Rick, yeah man sorry to bug you, but could you give me a ride? I'm in trouble here and I seem to have misplaced my vehicle." Warrick laughed and assured him that he knew exactly where the SUV was. "Where you at, man? Which chick got you to their place?" Nick shuddered and gave Rick the corner as an address, hoping that he' wouldn't recognize the area. "Yeah man, I'll be there in about 20, but expect details for my trouble." Warrick hung up, laughing. Nick headed for the front door, hoping to avoid Greg on his way out.

Greg, however, had different ideas. He was leaning on the wall to the side of the front door, arms crossed, seemingly busy studying the toes of his St_ar _Wars slippers. "If space is what you want, that's fine. I understand you're uncomfortable with what happened. I wish you would have cared to ask me how I felt about what happened, but whatever, Nick. Don't feel like you should leave your job, or even grave because of it. But if you want space, who am I to deny that? I'll give it to you, don't worry." He raised his eyes to Nick's for a split second, only long enough for Nick to see the pain and anger there. It shot through him like an electric shock and he was stunned, only able to stare back in dismay. Greg dropped his gaze back to his slippers and pushed off the wall heading for his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. "I am so, so sorry Greg." Nick said softly, knowing Greg wouldn't hear it. He let himself out the front door and latched the door quietly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**What Did You Do?**

**A/N I mess with timelines. Despite the fact I don't own any of these characters, I like to let them all come out and play. Cheeky wench, aren't I?**

**Chapter Two**

True to his word, twenty minutes later Warrick's black SUV rolled to a stop at the corner. Instead of unlocking the door, though, he just rolled down the window. "Hey sweet thang, you need a ride?" He got so few opportunities to pick on his best friend. Stony faced , Nick reached in, unlocked the door and got in. "Not today, man, I'm begging you." Warrick smirked and responded "Aww, come on Nicky, I'm your best friend. Ya gotta kiss and tell, man."

Nick looked at his friend for a long moment as they pulled away from the curb. Even as best friends there was so much personal stuff they didn't share. Christ, Warrick didn't even tell him he was married. Nick had found out from a teary eyed Catherine. As much as Nick would have liked to talk to someone, he didn't feel like there was anyone he could share this with. He looked through the windshield into the Nevada sunshine and sighed. "Just leave it alone, Rick, please. I swear I'll cover the next three times Tina comes looking for you if you just let this go." Warrick pulled his aviators down a bit and looked Nick in the eye as they idled at a stop light. "That's a low blow man, but fine, I'll leave it be. You know you can talk to me though, right?"

The light changed and they pulled out into traffic. "Yeah, I know." Nick said softly, knowing he didn't mean it, and that probably he wouldn't talk to Warrick, or anyone else about this mess he'd created.

"Hey, doesn't Sanders live somewhere right around here? Couldn't he have given you a ride instead of you hauling my ass out of bed?"

Nick squirmed in the hot leather seat of the SUV. God, he hated telling lies. He settled for "Does he? Sorry, man."

Twelve blocks later Warrick pulled into the parking lot of some club Nick didn't recognize. How the hell did his car end up here? It didn't really look like his kind of place. Warrick pulled into the spot next to Nick's truck and Nick got out and looked for damage or tickets. Thankfully he found neither. He pulled his keys out and tried to get in but the seat was pulled forward. Weird. He moved the seat back and got in, wondering who the last person to drive his car was. He bit back his worry for the moment and waved his goodbye and thanks to his friend. Warrick rolled down the window before pulling out of the parking spot. "You wanna maybe grab some breakfast? Or did she cook you one?"

Nick hid his half smile behind his hand. That was a lame attempt for information. "I already ate, but thanks."

Nick rolled for home and a long hot shower. He was scheduled to work tomorrow night, as was Greg. He was going to have to figure out how to get his shit together before then and handle himself as the professional his colleagues had come to trust and depend on. He said a silent prayer to anyone that would listen that this disaster wouldn't end up destroying his relationships with his coworkers. He was closer to them than he was to a lot of his actual family and he would hate to lose face to them. He shook his head, realizing that as close as he was to his work family, there were still things he didn't think he could ever talk to them about. He was on his own on this one.


	3. Chapter 3

What Did You Do?

Chapter Three

A/N: slightly au-ish. Warrick is alive, Catherine is in charge, Riley was a bad dream, Ray may be a consultant or something….I play but don't own. Some limited OC, with no real impact on the story.

Greg regretted slamming the door. His head was still a bit tender. He leaned his back against the door running his hands through his hair. Eventually he slid to the floor. He rested his elbow on his bent knee and his temple on his fist and pulled distractedly at a fraying thread coming out of his left slipper. He smiled briefly. He loved these slippers but they were getting worn. His friend Cass had given them to him for Christmas several years ago. He smiled again. He hadn't seen Cass or the kids in a while. They might be a perfect diversion from this mess. Greg dug around on the floor until he could pull his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He checked for texts and calls quickly, hoping for nothing. He pulled up his email and scanned for the memo he'd barely read last week. Once found and thoroughly read, Greg smiled grimly and put in a call to Catherine. Space is what Nick wanted, then space was what Nick was going to get, at least for a week or so.

Phone calls made to Catherine and a delighted Cass, Greg headed for a long hot shower. He let the water get hotter then normal, scalding his skin. He felt like there should be memories he should be rinsing away, and yet somehow he couldn't come up with any remorse for what had happened between him and Nick, other than the fact he couldn't remember any of it. Of course he regretted how upset Nick had been when he left. He turned and braced his hands on the wall below the shower head and let the hot water flow over the back of his head, watching it run down the drain. He had to fix this somehow. But he had to figure out what he wanted. And get Nick to figure out what he wanted, which would be difficult. Nick was insanely good at avoidance behaviors. Greg threw his head back and let the water beat into his chest, pushing his fingers back through his hair to keep the water out of his eyes. He ran his hands down his sides and wondered briefly what it had felt like to have Nick's hands there. His mind drifted wondering if there were any memories there at all. He wondered if they'd kissed, or if maybe he'd sucked Nick's cock. He found he didn't mind that thought, his mouth watered a little at the idea of having that weight on his tongue, that salty leak of pre-cum on his taste buds. He let his hands drift lower and found himself very much appreciating that thought. Alright then, apparently Nick was what he wanted, if his cock was any indication. Now he just had to figure out what Nick wanted.

Post shower, post orgasm, post revelation, Greg felt refreshed. He pulled some of his comfy, ratty, day-at-home clothes out of the clean laundry basket and hummed to himself as he started cleaning up his apartment. He stripped the sticky sheets off his bead with a grimace and replaced them with clean. He put the dishes in the dishwasher and took out the trash. Then he packed a bag. Just the necessities. A couple changes of clothes, a toothbrush and his good shampoo. His phone, laptop and chargers. He slung a jacket over his shoulders and picked up his bags, taking a last look around his darkened apartment. He turned off the a/c, grabbed his keys and bolted the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

What Did You Do?

Chapter Four

A/N Not mine, no matter how much I wish they were.

The residual heat of the Vegas day seeped out of the pavement as Nick rolled into the lab the next night. He pulled into his normal parking spot, scanning unsuccessfully for Greg's car. He killed the engine and let out a deep breath. "Ok, Nick," he said softly, "Time to put on the big boy pants and deal with it." He pulled off his ball cap and scratched at the back of his head. Now or never.

As Nick entered the break room it seemed like most the grave crew was already assembled, minus a quirky blond. He slid into the seat next to Warrick, studiously ignoring the smirk on his friend's face, but took the cup of coffee he offered. Catherine stood and waved a hand for quiet, stack of the night's assignments in the other hand.

"Okay, everyone, we're one short tonight so we'll be a little tight. Warrick, Sara, you've got a triple homicide at the Tangiers, it's high profile so watch your step; the media will be on it like crazy. Ecklie's already at the scene. Nick, you've got a trash run in Henderson, hold back a sec before you leave, 'kay? After I get some paperwork taken care of, I'll join you guys at the Tangiers. Alright, guys, let's hit it. Call if you need anything."

Warrick and Sara grabbed their kits and filed past Catherine, arguing over who was going to drive. Nick stared down at the cup in his hands like it held the answers to the universe then took another drag of the substandard brew.

"Nicky, I need a favor."

"Sure Cath, anything."

"Well, it seems at least one of our team reads the emails I forward…"

"Catherine, you send me at least 25 emails a day. …" Nick realized he was approaching terminal velocity whine, but he was a little ticked about being sent on a trash run when there was a high profile case available. He sighed. Big boy pants.

"Welcome to my world, Nicky. Management means paperwork. Anyway, Clark county is under a budget crunch and can't afford to pay us this year for vacation we don't take, so you use it or lose it. Greg chose to take a week of vaca, but I need some paperwork signed to get him paid for this week. Buuuuuuuut….he's unable to come in to sign it. I need you to stop and get his signature. There's no rush on the trash run, since David is going to be tied up at the Tangiers for a couple hours. "

"Sure, but he lives in the opposite direction of this scene…."

"He's staying at a place in Henderson about three miles from your scene. Here's the address. I had planned to go myself after shift, but these need to be filed before then. Thanks, Nicky, I appreciate it," the last bit being thrown over her shoulder as she strode down the corridor towards her office. Nick looked down at the folder she'd left on the table with a post-it note on the cover bearing an unfamiliar address. Puzzled, Nick drained the last of his lackluster coffee and grimaced. He missed the good stuff. He scratched the back of his head again and sighed, picked up the folder and his kit and headed back into the night to his SUV.


	5. Chapter 5

What Did You Do?

Chapter Five

A/N Don't own it. Just love it.

Address plugged into his GPS, the Texan transplant turned his vehicle into traffic. He contemplated stopping and getting a burger on the way, but realized he would only be procrastinating. Truth be told, he hadn't really had an appetite for a couple of days. He ran his hands roughly over his face as he sat at a red light. He really, really needed to get his head right and deal with this situation. "Well, I guess seeing Greg tonight will be a start," he said to himself. A honk from the car behind him startled him. The light was green. Nick shook his head and pulled out into the intersection and wondered again what the heck Greg was doing in this part of town.

As Nick pulled up to the house that his GPS indicated, his confusion deepened. He put his truck in park and searched the passenger seat for the little sticky note with the address on it. He double checked the address and considered calling Catherine to check with her. He shrugged and got out of his car, careful to lock it. He was standing in a half-way decent neighborhood, in front of the most run down house on the block. The paint was peeling and the scrubby lawn was covered with weeds and a variety of kids' toys. He looked around and a puzzled look consumed his face. Unbeknownst to him, Greg had silently dubbed this "Stokes puzzled #3." Greg always thought Nick looked like he had smelled something horrible when he wore this particular expression, and it frankly made him smirk. Nick strode up to the door, and as he pulled his hand back to knock, heard a crash inside and a several screeches. Always on his toes, Nick reached for his holstered weapon, preparing to pound on the door and yell "LVPD open up!" Before he could embarrass himself, however, he realized the screeching voices were, in fact, children laughing uproariously. Nick secured his gun, resumed his "Stokes puzzled #3" expression, and banged on the door. Ten seconds later a very surprised Greg Sanders opened the door with one small child riding his left shin, one smaller child riding his right hip, and a quick reach for the collar of a slightly older child trying to bolt for the now opened door. Nick's jaw dropped as he looked on in ever deepening confusion.

"Um, hi Nick. What can I do for you?" Greg asked as a blush crept up his neck. Before Nick could even begin to form a response, the urchin wrapped around Greg's shin broke the silence with "Potty, Unca Greg, Potty!" Greg looked down at the small boy in dismay. "Right now? Seriously? Can you hold it two seconds?" The little boy giggled, and his older brother replied for him. "He's gotta go." Greg huffed in frustration.

"Nick, close your jaw and come in for five minutes. Hold her," he started, handing the little girl on his hip out to Nick, "and keep Michael away from the front door. I swear I'll be just a couple of minutes."

Nick took the little girl and held her against his left side, leaving his weapon well away from her swinging legs. He stepped in and closed the door behind him as Greg hurried away with the monkey from his shin in tow. He sat gingerly in a tatty chair and repositioned the girl to his lap. The older boy stood crossly facing him.

"So you're Michael. Can you tell me her name? Is she your sister?" Michael cocked his head and stuck out his bottom lip, clearly sizing the new man up and searching for weaknesses. "Are you a policeman, like Uncle Greg?" he asked with a slight lisp.

"Sort of. Where's your mom at?" Nick refrained from asking who his mom was, although that was the question burning in Nick's mind. Did Greg have a sister? Surely, Nick would have known. He'd known the other man for over a decade. Nick shook his head. Greg had been right when he said there were a lot of things Nick didn't know about him. Somehow that made Nick feel really, well, deficient. He was pretty sure Greg could list off every one of his siblings and most of his nieces and nephews, and yet three kids clearly considered Greg their uncle, whether biological or not, and Nick had had no clue. Mentally he berated himself. How could an investigator be so clueless?

Michael broke his concentration. "Her name is Trina. Mom went on a trip with a man she knows. I don't know his name. My brother's name is Brandon." he sized up Nick some more. "Do you have a gun? Can I see it?"

Nick smiled a bit as Trina seemed to snuggle into his side. "Yep, I've got a gun, but you can't see it. It's for grown-ups, little man. How about you tell me how old you are, instead?" Michael looked disappointed for a moment, but decided he still might be able to get something out of this man. He started on a long, nonsensical dissertation on the history of his life, many of the facts being quite imaginative; unless, in fact, his biological father really was Spider-Man.,

By the time Greg got back, Trina was sound asleep and Nick was positive Michael would have a successful career in fiction some day. Greg crept up to Nick and the two kids in order to preserve the dormant state of the little one. "What did you want, Nick?" he asked softly. Nick looked at Greg for a moment and barely resisted replying "now there's a loaded question." Instead, he pointed to the folder he'd dropped on the table by the door. "You need to sign your vaca request if you want to get paid this week. Catherine was tied up with a triple and couldn't make it. I hope that I didn't make you uncomfortable by stopping in like this. I guess I could have called so you at least expected me."

Greg shrugged and looked for a pen to sign off on his paperwork. "Honestly it should be me worrying about you being uncomfortable. I just threw a kid at you. Literally. Thanks, by the way. I was able to put Brandon to bed."

"You're welcome. I didn't mind. I love kids," Nick said wistfully as his hand absently stroked the fine hair on the top of Trina's head. "I kind of always figured I'd have a family by now, but it hasn't quite worked out like that. Luckily I have a couple dozen nieces and nephews I can steal anytime I want."

Greg looked at Nick, calculatingly. He stored that image away to revisit at a later moment.

"I know you love kids, Nick. You're always so good with any of them that come into the lab. I love kids, too, but I always let you take over with them, because you seem to enjoy it so much. You're a natural at it, too."

Nick looked up and met Greg's gaze, and held it for a long moment. He felt that odd discomfort somewhere between his lungs and his heart again. He slowly stood up out of the tatty chair and gently handed Trina over to Greg.

"Thanks. For signing the papers, I mean. I gotta get out to my scene. Super Dave should be there soon." He headed for the front door, keeping a wary eye out for Michael, the door dasher. "If you need any help, with the kids, I mean, let me know. I'd be happy to."

Greg smiled and nodded, closing the storm door and waving goodbye. "I will keep that in mind," he said to himself softly, smiling as he watched Nick drive off to his scene.


	6. Chapter 6

What Did You Do?

Chapter Six

A/N My name is My Mulligan, and I'm addicted to the innappropriate use of apostrophes. I actually am just too lazy to remember where they go. Please don't let it irritate you.

The smell was intolerable. Nick was going to kill Catherine for this. His trash run had turned out to be a badly decomposed body; so badly decomposed it was hardly a body any more, more like human stew. It was reminiscent of the case he and Sara had had a few years back with the Veteran dumped in a duffle bag. Nick remembered the smell from that one. That stench was permanently stored for some kind of obscene reference in the bowels of Nick's long term memory. He thought about it for a second. Yep, this smell was almost the same. And the D.B. was dumped in a large suitcase. An oddly expensive suitcase for a dumpster in a really bad neighborhood. He hoped he'd be able to trace it back to it's owner. He also hoped he could somehow get this smell out of his nose. The body wasn't even in the same vehicle as him, having been secured in the van with David. Only the residue of being in contact with it for a short time clung to him. He rolled down all four windows and cranked the a/c, hoping for some reprieve as he rolled back to the lab.

Once back in the cool dark hallways of the lab Nick went looking for the grave supervisor, finding her behind a desk littered with files. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned casually against the door frame.

" So what did I ever do you?"

Catherine barely glanced up from the piles of paperwork. "What do you mean?" she responded absently, shuffling between two files and her computer keyboard.

"Sara and Warrick get a high profile triple in a nice, clean hotel and I get human stew in a dumpster in Henderson. I was just wondering if I pissed you off recently."

Catherine stopped what she was doing long enough to remove her glasses and rub her hands over tired eyes. She looked over at her assistant supervisor, weighing her words carefully. "Have you, or have you not, verbally chastised other members of your team for the same line of bullshit whining you just gave me?" Nick cocked her half a smile. "Maybe, Cath. But does that negate my right to a good natured whine once in a while?"

Catherine eyed the Texan warily. "Find your truck okay this morning, Stokes?"

Nick looked at Catherine, confused (Stokes puzzled, #2). "Yeah, Warrick took me to it. Why?"

"How do you think it got there?" Catherine asked slyly, lifting one eyebrow. Nick looked bashful with his sudden realization. He had a sneaking suspicion that night would live in infamy. He wondered briefly just how much his boss knew about what went on that night, blushing slightly at the thought.

"Let's just say we're even on this one, Nicky. Now why don't you fill me in on where you're at with the human stew."

"Know what boss? I got it, don't worry. I just like to check in on you, you know." He smirked and left Catherine to her files. As he was walking towards the morgue to collect the trace on the human stew, his phone buzzed in it's holster. He checked the screen and took a deep breath. It was from Greg.

"Did you mean it about the help thing?"

"With the kids? Yes" Nick texted back, leaning on the wall outside of autopsy. With anything, he thought. He didn't think there was much Greg could ask of him that he wouldn't easily give.

"You up for an adventure? :)"

Nick let his head hit the wall hard. Was he? What the hell. What could he possibly have to lose at this point? He thought hard for several moments, then typed in his text. Hesitated for another moment and hit send. Fuck it.

"You're on."


	7. Chapter 7

What Did You Do?

A/N Don't own them, just like to let them come out and play a bit.

Chapter Seven

The hot Nevada sun rose over the horizon as Nick Stokes stepped out of the crime lab. He was headed for another long shower to try to get the last residue of 'eau d' human stew' off of him before heading back out to the little house in Henderson for "an adventure." He smiled and shook his head a bit, wondering again what the heck he'd gotten himself into. Greg had asked that he clean out the back of his SUV before coming over. "Only one way to find out," he thought to himself, letting himself into his townhouse. He showered and changed, thinking about how grateful he was that Greg was still comfortable around him.

About an hour later Nick knocked on the door of the little house with the peeling paint. "Just a minute!" Greg yelled from somewhere inside. Before Greg had a chance to open the front door, Michael did. "Michael, don't you dare step out that door!" Greg called . Michael stopped in his tracks and faced off against a stern-looking Nick. "Hey, little man," Nick started, "How about you and me go inside?" Michael huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes in a way that only a five year old could make adorable. "Okaaaayyyyy." he stomped dramatically across the living room. Nick bit back a grin and followed the urchin into the house, latching the door securely behind him.

At the sound of the latching door a panicked Greg ran into the room awkwardly clutching a half -naked Trina. "Michael!" Greg skidded to a stop when he realized Michael was inside, as was Nick. "Oh, Nick!" he took a deep breath and looked back and forth between Nick and the giggling, diaper-less baby in his arms. "Back in a sec!" He threw over his shoulder as he scurried out of the room and down a dark hallway, Trina held awkwardly in front of him. Nick grinned again and sincerely hoped the kid was wearing a diaper when Greg returned.

Nick kept an eye on the door and stood uncomfortably in the middle of the living room, briefly scanning the walls and bookshelves. There didn't seem to be more than a couple of photos of the kids around, and only one with a young woman Nick assumed was their mother. There was one with Greg and the two boys in it, obviously much younger. There weren't any pictures of any other male figures that could possibly be a father. Nick had to admit his curiosity was piqued.

Greg returned a moment later, a fully clothed Trina riding his hip and Brandon trailing behind him. On seeing Nick in the room Brandon hid behind Greg's knees, the frayed denim of Greg's jeans firmly grasped in fat little fists. "Well, you ready for an adventure?" Greg asked with a grin holding Trina out for Nick to take.

"What d'you have in mind, Cowboy?" Nick responded, tossing a giggling Trina in the air lightly. The little girl seemed quite taken with the Texan, though her brother Brandon would apparently take some more convincing. Nick rested the little girl against his hip and turned questioning eyes on his fellow CSI. Greg smiled brilliantly, making Nick somewhat suspicious. "We, Mister Stokes, are going to the grocery store," Greg announced proudly.

Nick blinked a few times. "That's what you consider an adventure these days, G? I'm surprised and a little disappointed."

Greg held up his index finger "Ah , but it is when you take three children under the age of six." He smiled again, "Especially these three. I've got the car seats ready to go…they wouldn't fit in my Jetta. Toss me your keys and Brandon and I'll get them set up, won't we kiddo?" Greg ruffled the monkey's hair affectionately. "I really appreciate this, Nick. Cass was supposed to leave me enough food and stuff, but as usual, she had other stuff on her mind." Nick nodded, bouncing Trina a bit. "Kay, Boss. Trina and Michael and I will follow you out in a few. Alright?"

Greg caught the keys that Nick tossed to him and shoved them in his front pocket. He lifted Brandon on to his hip and grabbed one of the car seats from beside the front door. Nick opened the door for him with a wary eye on the intrepid door dasher. Greg quickly installed the seat in Nick's still-cool SUV and belted Brandon in. Nick started out with Trina in one arm and Michael's little hand firmly grasped in his other hand. Greg dashed in for the other car seat and locked the door behind him. Once Michael was belted in and Trina was installed in her car seat, the two adults took a deep breath and Nick put the vehicle in reverse, heading for the local supermarket. Adventure, indeed.


	8. Chapter 8

What Did You Do?

A/N This thing has ended up with a life of it's own and is heading in a direction not anticipated, but I'm willing to hang on for the ride if you are. Your reviews touch me. In good, warm-fuzzie ways, not bad Law and Order SVU ways. I know this is rated M, and it really hasn't been, but I promise to try for smut later on. Kids and smut in the same chapter doesn't work for me.

Chapter Eight

An exhausted Greg smiled to himself as he finished diapering a sleepy Trina. He re-snapped her onesie and lifted her into her crib. A light blanket and a bottle and she was ready for a nap. The boys were already out, each in their beds lining the other side of the small bedroom. Trina sleepily made a grasping motion at Greg and he cocked his head, wondering what she wanted. He leaned down into her crib. "Whatcha need, princess? She made a grab at his nose and then made her hand motion over Greg's shoulder. He turned and looked. "Kitty?" he asked. She nodded as Greg handed her the stuffed cat from the shelf above Michael's bed. She made the motion again and Greg leaned over her crib. This time she pulled her bottle from her mouth and blew him a sloppy kiss "maaa." She reinserted the bottle and rolled to her side, Kitty clutched to her side. Greg grinned. "Backatcha, urchin."

Greg pulled the door mostly closed as he walked out and headed for the living room. He chuckled softly at what he found. Nick Stokes was sprawled out on the sofa, ball cap pulled low over his eyes and a half empty bottle of beer on his thigh, grasped loosely in one hand. Greg tapped Nick's foot and he let one foot drop to the floor and bent the other at the knee, giving Greg room to slouch onto the sofa and prop his feet on the old trunk that served as a coffee table.

"I wasn't asleep, only resting my eyes. I cannot believe how much energy that kid has! My back was turned, what maybe 3 seconds? And he's out of the cart. How did he do that?" Nick asked, shaking his head slightly but not opening his eyes.

Greg held back a chuckle, "I appreciated you chasing him down."

"Well, I had to, didn't I? It's not like you could, you're hands were full with the other two. I swear man, I've chased full grown criminals that weren't as fast as that kid."

"Yeah, well the only good thing about their energy is it's short lived. They're like alligators…very fast for a very short period of time, wreaking havoc as they go, but then they get tired and need a nap."

"Alligators, G? You been watching Animal Planet?" Nick teased, yawning wildly. "You ever going to tell me about their mom?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, but not now. Why don't you catch 40?"

"Naw, man I need to get home," he yawned widely again, "but at this moment I gotta say this old sofa is about the most comfortable thing I've ever been on." The beer balanced on his thigh tipped precariously. Greg gently removed the bottle and set it on the coffee table after draining the last of it. He tugged an old Mexican blanket off the armchair and tossed over the Texan's torso. Nick sighed and pulled the blanket up, ending with his arms crossed over his chest and his hands under his armpits. Greg stood and looked down at his friend for a moment or two before his train of thought was broken by Nick's incoherent mumbling about alligators, monkeys, wubbies and Spider Man. He smiled widely and realized he was in dangerous territory. What he was beginning to feel for this man went way beyond casual affection or (hopefully)mutual attraction.

Several hours later, Nick woke with a snort and a "Wha?" He looked around the room quickly to get his bearings and shook his head a bit to dislodge the cobwebs and the stuffed cat that was resting against his cheek. He pushed the blanket off of him and pulled himself to a sitting position stretching his arms over his head and rotating his neck. After a few seconds voices and an amazing smell led him into the kitchen.

"Hey, sleepy head," Greg teased. "You get enough sleep? I thought about having you move to Cassie's room, but you were out." He pored a cup of coffee-the good stuff-and passed it to the sleepy man after stirring two spoons of sugar in to it. Nick inhaled deeply and immediately perked up.

"G, you're turning me into a coffee snob. Yeah, I think I got enough sleep. You give me another cup and feed me, and I'll be ready for work. What's cooking? It smells fantastic." Nick lifted a lid off a pot simmering on the stove and sniffed appreciatively.

"Sit down and I'll dish it up. It's my mom's stoganoff recipe. The best part is, it's even better day two over buttered toast." Greg drained some wide noodles and portioned them to two big and three little plates. The little plates got butter and a liberal sprinkling of shredded cheese on the noodles, as well as some blanched baby carrots that Greg had allowed to cool and some apple sauce. The big plates each received generous portions from the aromatic pot on the stove. "It's a little bit of a sophisticated taste for them, but I don't get to cook it often. 'Sides, I thought you might like it." He handed Nick his plate and smiled shyly. He put the small plates on the table in front of Michael and Brandon and on Trina's highchair and took his own seat, handing out big and small forks to all but Trina, who still preferred to use fingers. Nick set his coffee mug down and lifted his plate close to his face so he could take a big whiff. "God, that smells good. This might just erase the smell of my last case from my nose." He picked up his fork and dove in.

By the time Nick had made his way through his second helping, both of the boys had finished their supper and were busy working with paper and crayons, Brandon perched in Greg's lap, while Trina worked on another bottle. As Nick sopped the last of the sauce up with a bit of bread, he looked at his plate and asked quietly about the kids' mom. Greg took a deep breath and rested his chin lightly on Brandon's head.

"I've known Cassie practically my whole life. She lived down the street from me. She's actually really brilliant," Greg smiled, but then his face clouded over. "She's brilliant, but manages to almost always make insanely bad choices. I've cleaned up a lot of her messes. Big messes." Greg fondly stroked Brandon's hair. "She moved here about six years ago. Her parents finally kicked her out after she flunked out of college. She was staying with me when my roommate from grad school ended up in Vegas for a conference. He wanted to hook up for a drink, and ended up hooking up with Cassie for the night. Nine months and a paternity test later, I had to help her sue my former friend for child support. Mike never forgave me for taking her side."

Nick pushed his plate away and rested his forearms on the table. "Michael's father?" Greg nodded, and let out a long sigh. "And Brandon's father was my former landlord's son. I never found out who Trina's dad was, but the child support from the other two pays for most of her rent here and daycare. She works as a black jack dealer at the Gold Nugget. I love her to pieces, but she's really good at f- " he glanced at the kids, " screwing with my life. I've kept her away from LVPD because she tends to ruin relationships."

"Greggo, you are a really good guy. So you two never had a thing?"

Greg spit out the coffee he was sipping, narrowly missing Brandon and his artwork. "Me and Cassie? No. Not even close. I love her like a sister, but I would kill her in a week."

The two CSI's laughed comfortably for a moment, before Nick rose and cleared dishes from the table. He checked his watch. "I'm gonna have to bust outa here, Hoss, but thanks for dinner." He walked over to Michael and ruffled his hair. "Bye, Bud." Michael eyed him critically for a moment before handing him the drawing he had been working on. "Why, Nick, Michael drew a picture of you!" Greg smirked. Nick surveyed the drawing. "Really? I thought it was an elephant." Michael cocked his head and rolled his eyes. "Silly." he lisped, "Ephalants aren't orange and purple."


	9. Chapter 9

What Did You Do?

A/N Not mine.

Chapter Nine

"Nicky, we caught a break!" Catherine exclaimed as she rounded the corner into the break room.

"Hmmm?" Nick responded, clearly distracted. Catherine stopped in her tracks and took in the scene. Nick had a cup of coffee in hand and was leaning against the table with his back to her. She rounded the table to see what was holding her assistant supervisor's attention so completely. It seemed he was staring at the door of the fridge. At further study she realized he was staring at something on the fridge…a drawing by a child in orange and purple. She looked back at Nick and smiled at his puzzlement.

"Does that look like an elephant to you, or a CSI?" he asked seriously.

Catherine smiled. "One of Cassie's kids?"

Nick looked at her, surprised. "You know about her? Why do you, if I didn't?"

"It wasn't my tale to tell, Nicky. But, since you know about her now…" she took a deep breath, "About three years ago I came across Greg sitting on the floor of my office pulling his hair out. When he calmed down he told me he had to recuse himself from the case because he knew one of the possible suspects. Cassie's fingerprints had turned up during the investigation. She was eventually cleared, but I brow-beat the story out of Greg eventually, and he told me how he'd been cleaning up after her since they were kids…he just couldn't risk the case or his career to do it this time, and it was killing him. Every once in a while he still asks me for 'motherly advice' about the kids. Not that having one kid makes me an expert or anything." She cocked her head, raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "I would stay away from her if I were you, Nick. She's a man-eater."

Nick studied Catherine's expression for a moment and downed the rest of his coffee. "Thanks for the warning. Tell me what you got on the case."

Several hours later the owner of Nick's suitcase had been identified and questioned, though she quickly asked for a lawyer. They had yet to identify the human stew as his DNA had not been in the system. Nick finished up the last of his notes and prepared to head for home. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket for his car keys and came up, instead, with a pacifier. He smiled and dug further into his pocket until he reached his keys. He thought about little Ms. Trina and her nookie as he put his SUV into gear and swung into traffic. He smiled when he thought about the stuffed cat that had somehow become lodged under his cheek while he slept on the couch in the little house with the peeling paint in Henderson. Then he thought about the quirky CSI and his beef stroganoff. His stomach rumbled, and Nick smiled. Maybe he'd stop by and return Trina's pacifier, and see if he could get some "day two over buttered toast" stroganoff.


	10. Chapter 10

What Did You Do?

A/N No matter how many stars I wish on, these boys still aren't mine.

Chapter Ten

The leather seats of the black SUV stuck to the back of Nick's arms as he sat parked in front of the house with the peeling paint. He was waffling, and he hated that. It was so contrary to his personality. He usually acted with confidence and dealt with the consequences if he miss-stepped. He felt out of his depth in this situation, though, like it somehow required skills he lacked. He was sitting in his sweltering car trying to decide whether or not to go up and knock on the door. Would it look weird to come back so soon? Should he call first? Christ, he was starting to sound like a girl. "Fuck it," he said to himself as he went and knocked on the door.

After a few minutes, during which Nick half thought about turning and leaving, a severely sleep rumpled Greg Sanders opened the door. "Nicky?" Greg's eyes were bloodshot and his hair stood up at odd angles on one side.

"Whoa, dude, you look like hell. Everything okay?" Greg nodded and opened the door wider, motioning Nick inside. "We just had a rough night last night. The kids are still out. I haven't even made coffee yet. Come on in to the kitchen while I put some on."

"I found this," taking the pacifier out of his pocket, "and thought I'd return it. That, and I was hoping for some more of that stroganoff…." Greg turned one weary eye on Nick as he poured water into the coffee maker. "I'm glad you liked it."

Nick decided to take a chance. "You're wrong, by the way."

"About what, exactly?" Greg asked yawning and stretching his arms over head, exposing a strip of flesh between his ratty t-shirt and his loose pajamas.

"Those Star Wars jammies look way better on you than on me." Nick locked eyes with Greg and Greg froze, unsure of what to do next. Nick slowly walked closer to Greg, holding his gaze. Once he was almost close enough to touch he reached over Greg's shoulder. Greg's eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled sharply. Nick reached past Greg , into the cupboard for a mug and held it between the two of them, smiling broadly. "Coffee, G?"

Greg's eyes popped open and narrowed on the man in front of him. He crossed his arms over his chest, tapped his foot and cocked his head as he studied the grinning idiot in front of him. He decided to go for broke, himself. "Mister Stokes, are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe. Now can I get some coffee, please? And I think you said something about stroganoff over buttered toast…."

Greg looked at Nick in mock irritation as he reached for the coffee pot. "You can get your own sugar."

Nick smiled and drank it black-it was still miles away from the crap at work-while Greg worked on warming up some stroganoff and putting down some toast.

"So what happened last night? Kids not want to go down?"

Greg rubbed a tired hand over his face as he searched the fridge for butter. "Brandon had nightmares. Bad ones. It worries me. I've never known a kid that young to have nightmares like that." The usually lighthearted CSI was clearly troubled. "He'd start screaming, wake up the other two. The weird thing is the way Michael acted. He went over and woke Brandon up then made him get in his bed."

"Why's that weird?"

"I don't know, exactly. The way he did it just struck me like it was habit, like it happened frequently. I tried asking him about it, but he was pretty tight-lipped. I don't know, maybe I'm just letting the job creep in, you know, color my vision and make me see things that I shouldn't even have a reason to look for, ya know." He shrugged as he put a plate in front on Nick and sat opposite him.

Nick thought about that as he ate, weighing his next words carefully.

"Greg, you're the smartest guy I know, and an amazing CSI. Don't second guess yourself. Trust your instincts." He studied Greg, as Greg studied the coffee in his mug.

"It's hard when your instincts might be telling you things you really don't want to know."

Nick hesitated for only a second before reaching across the table and wrapping his hand around one of Greg's wrists. "You're a strong person. You've seen a lot and been through things most people would never be able to handle. You're a rock, man. And I'll stand by you, whatever you need." Greg slowly dragged his eyes from the strong hand wrapped around his wrist to the eyes of the man across from him. "You'll stand by me, Nicky?" he asked softly.

"I'm coming to realize that's a pretty good place for me." Nick smiled and released Greg's wrist. He took his plate to the sink and grabbed the coffee pot to refill their cups.

"When is Cassie coming back? Where is she, anyway?"

Greg shook himself. "Um, Mazatlan? Or was it Cancun? I can't remember. She's off with the latest love of her life, whoever he is. I told her I only had four days off, 'cause last time she came back two days after my vacation was over."

"Why do you put up with that shit?" Nick asked, resting his head on his hand.

"She's family. And I love those kids." Nick sighed. He could understand that. He would probably do the same for any of his sisters. "I get that." Nick yawned widely. "Well, this time I really should head home. I need a shower and some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Greg looked up, "You will? Why exactly?"

"Cause I want to, Hoss. And I want to make sure you're okay. That okay?"

Greg smiled shyly. "Yeah. That's okay."


	11. Chapter 11

What Did You Do?

Chapter Eleven

Nick Stokes was in a very good mood. He hummed to himself and sang random little snatches of song as he swung his SUV through traffic towards the Las Vegas crime lab. He had slept better than he had slept in ages, and somehow had woken up without a single kink in his back. And he had a really good feeling about his case. He knew he was going to put the human stew to rest this shift. The ex-lover of the owner of the expensive suitcase had gone mysteriously missing, not showing up for work for the last week. Nick would pick up the warrant waiting for him at the lab and head out to the man's apartment to collect items for DNA comparison. Because the man had been missing, the warrant also extended to any signs of foul play. He'd hook up with either Brass or Vartann on the way. As much as someone being murdered was never funny, Nick couldn't hold back a small chuckle. If the ex-lover really was the man in the suitcase, his name was actually Stewart. He became human Stewie.

Warrant obtained, boss checked in with, Nick sat parked in his vehicle outside Stewie's place, waiting on Brass. He fiddled with the radio, checked his watch, and eventually let his mind wander. He smiled to himself when he realized his mind was wandering back to a quirky CSI wearing Star Wars pajamas and some serious bed-head. Cripes, Nick had it bad, if blood shot eyes and rumpled p.j.'s turned him on. But he wasn't just turned on by the guy, it felt different than that. Softer, yet sharp at the same time, and in a different part of his anatomy. Something that made Nick smile to himself all the time without realizing he was doing it.

Nick jumped as a stern-faced Brass knocked on his window. He turned off the engine and got out, grabbing his kit on the way. Brass raised an eyebrow and studied his colleague, never having known him to be prone to wool-gathering. Brass shook some keys at Nick, and Nick gave his Stokes's puzzled #2. "I was able to charm the keys out of the land lady, so no breaking in doors necessary today. Warrant?"

"Yeah, Brass, got it right here. Let's go see if this guy is our guy in the suitcase."

Several hours and dozens of evidence bags later, Nick was done with the apartment. Something had been done to someone in this apartment based on the amount of blood evidence Nick had found, both the small samples visible to the naked eye that the killer had missed, and the large pools the killer had clumsily tried to clean. He would have to wait on DNA results to see if that someone was Stewie. He had also found several really good prints. He didn't have the suitcase owner's prints on file to compare them to, so he'd have to get a warrant to obtain them. Shouldn't be hard, though, connecting the dots from missing ex-lover to owner of the suitcase. Should be enough to get a warrant. He had even found a slam dunk print in blood. He thanked the crime scene deities for that. An ex-lover had a reasonable explanation for prints in the man's apartment. A print in blood- if the blood was his- meant she had been there during the murder or soon after.

Nick gathered himself and his evidence and headed back to the lab. He dropped off blood samples with Wendy and prints with Mandy. Wendy looked exasperated with the sheer volume of samples, but dug right in. Mandy, however, took a moment to give her long-time coworker a once-over. "You look different somehow. Happier. What's up with you?" she asked. Nick just smiled and shrugged "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Mandalay. Can you get on my prints now? I gotta go work on a warrant for a comparison sample." Mandy smiled. Nick hadn't called her that in ages. In fact, now that she thought about it, that had been Greg's onetime nickname for her, not Nick's. Something shifted in the back of her brain and a small smiled teased the side of her mouth. "If you are talking about suitcase lady, I do have a sample. Catherine pulled her coffee cup when she came for the first interview. I only have her right hand, but it's a start." Nick smiled. Things were going his way today. To bad for suitcase lady, they didn't seem to be going hers.


	12. Chapter 12

What Did You Do?

Chapter Twelve

Nick was worried. More so than he thought the situation dictated, but still. He had texted Greg three times over an hour ago and not gotten a response. He had resorted to calling, but it had gone directly to voicemail. It was very unlike Greg not to respond, even if he'd been asleep. Nick grinned to himself as he headed for the little house in Henderson after his shift. It was nice to have someone to worry about, though.

For the second morning in a row, he was greeted at the door by a sleep rumpled Greg, though today he could hear that the kids were up and probably working on breakfast. Greg smirked and stood aside as Nick let himself in. "Coffee on yet?" he asked as he walked past an amused Greg to the kitchen. Greg crossed his arms, shook his head, grinned, and followed Nick into the kitchen after securing the door. He found Nick surveying Greg's phone, disassembled and laying in pieces in a shallow bowl of rice. Nick cocked an eyebrow. "Now I know why you didn't answer your phone. Do I wanna know what happened to it?"

Greg smiled as he poured two cups of coffee and added sugar to Nick's. "Brandon was very excited to be using the bathroom on his own, and thought he should commemorate the occasion, by taking a picture…"

"Noooooooooo. Down the toilet? Seriously? That's hilarious." Nick chuckled into his coffee, rumpling Brandon's hair with his free hand. "Yes, well, I'll keep that in mind as I'm holding it up to my face. I think I might just replace it. Hey can I borrow yours? There's no land line here." Nick dug his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it over to Greg. Greg dialed his voicemail account to check if he'd missed anything. He blushed and smiled to himself as he listened to the multiple messages from Nick. Nick merely raised an eyebrow as he continued to sip his coffee.

"Cassie's going to be home sometime this morning, sounds like it didn't…." mid-sentence the front door crashed open and "I'm home!" was announced from the living room. Michael jumped down from his chair and Nick helped Brandon climb down from his booster seat. A moment later a petite blond stood in the kitchen door with Brandon in her arms and Michael in tow. "Ooooh do I smell your coffee, Greggie? Gimme!" Trina banged her plastic spoon on her high chair tray, sending mashed banana everywhere. Nick wiped a small chunk out of his eye and stood up to get a towel from the sink. Cassie's eyes followed his movements curiously, as Greg poured her a cup of coffee and took Brandon from her. He handed Brandon to Nick and took the towel, wiping the banana up. "Cass, this is a friend of mine from work, Nick Stokes. Nick this is my sister Cassie." "Ma am. Did you have a nice trip?" Nick asked politely, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the looks Cassie was sending him. Nick sat down and set Brandon on his lap, pulling his bowl of cereal towards him. "Hmmm? Oh, yes, thanks. I mean, the weather was nice and all, but the company wasn't what I had hoped…" Cassie responded distractedly, watching the ease with which this gorgeous man seemed to interact with her kids. And he had to be employed if he worked with Greg. He drove a nice SUV, too, if that was his parked outside. "True gentlemen are sure hard to come by," she sighed.

Greg turned around from wringing out the rag in his hand with a start. He knew that tone of voice. Cassie was on the prowl. He looked her up and down, and yes, indeed, she had turned on her sparkle. She smiled coyly at Nick, smiling just enough to show her dimples. She shook her hair back over her shoulder as she smiled at her kids, putting on a show for Nick. Greg scowled "Cassie…don't" he hissed, surprising both Nick and Cassie. Greg grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cass, I need to speak with you in the living room….Nick do you mind watching the kids for a second?" Nick held his gaze for a long moment, "sure, G, whatever you need." Greg snagged Cassie's wrist and dragged her with him to the far end of the living room.

"Greggie, what in the hell are you doing? That was rude. And he is gorgeous! Is he seeing anyone?" she prattled on.

"Cass, I swear to god, if you don't drop it, I will never talk to you again. How many times do you have to screw something up for me, and I'm just supposed to sit here and take it? I told you, my colleagues from work are off limits."

"But, Greggie, you know you would never abandon me! You love me! And the kids. They would miss their 'Unca Greg' soooo much." she simpered, rubbing her hands up and down Greg's arms. "Besides, look at him! He's so good with the kids! I just have a feeling about him…he could be the one and only!"

Greg huffed. "You just fucking met him! Are you insane?" Greg ran his hands down his face and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm going to go. I've got stuff to do and you are seriously pissing me off. I'll be back later, because there's some stuff you and I need to discuss. I'm sorry your trip didn't go well." he threw the last over his shoulder as he headed for the bedroom to change his clothes and collect his stuff.

He came out into the living room a few moments later with his bags packed, muttering to himself. He'd tell Nick he was leaving and head out, but he was stopped in his tracks by the image framed by the kitchen doorway. Nick and Cassie stood facing each other, talking casually. Nick held Brandon in his arms and Cassie had Trina on one hip. She said something quietly to Nick, and he laughed as she laid her hand on his arm. Michael stood between them, one foot on Nick's foot, one foot on Cassie's foot, one hand on each of their belts, leaning back and laughing like a monkey. In a split second, Greg saw a family portrait. He saw his adopted sister, the screw up, finally with someone who could keep her in line and help her reach her potential and take care of her. He saw Nick, with the family he'd always wanted, one that his conservative Texas family would probably approve of. He saw the three kids he adored, finally having a solid father figure in their life. He saw family portrait Christmas cards and trips to the zoo, little Trina riding on Nick's broad shoulders, the boys running ahead excitedly, Cass carrying a picnic basket. He saw family movie night, everyone curled up on a big sofa eating popcorn. He saw himself, once again, on the outside, looking in. Just like when he was in the lab, the wannabe, watching from the doorways begging to help so he could be part of something bigger.

In that moment, something in Greg crumpled, like someone had put a sharp crease in his soul. He felt a physical pain from behind his eyes to somewhere behind his lungs…his throat felt raw and his eyes burned. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. He quietly let himself out the front door and headed for his car. He felt like he was in a thick fog that made him numb as he put his Jetta in gear and sped towards home, stopping only when he got to the liquor store a couple of blocks from his house. He walked through the aisles in a haze, looking blankly at the rows of bottles. He stopped when he reached the tequila. Why not? He grabbed a bottle and three limes from the basket next to the tequila. He felt like he was a hundred years old, and must have looked it, as this was the first time he didn't get carded. He smiled sadly and headed for home and oblivion.


	13. Chapter 13

What Did You Do?

A/N Smut alert! Don't own, but sure have fun playing!

Chapter Thirteen

Greg sat at his kitchen table, his chin resting on a flattened forearm. He had carefully sliced the limes and put them on the plate sitting in front of him, next to the salt shaker. But he hadn't cracked the seal on the tequila yet. He just played with the bottle distractedly, spinning it slowly, blankly contemplating the label and the universe, the bottom of the bottle making lonely little gravelly sounds against the table top in the quiet kitchen as he spun it.

He had no idea how long he sat there when his front door opened. He hadn't even locked it, he realized, something he'd done compulsively for years. He also realized he couldn't give a shit. Whoever it was could take what they wanted, he didn't feel like he had anything left, anyway.

The chair next to him sounded loud as it scraped on the floor as it was pulled away from the table. Greg looked up briefly into Nick's troubled face. Looked back to the bottle still spinning slowly in his hand. "Greggo, what are you doing?" Nick asked softly. Greg furrowed his brow before answering, "Facing my demons, I suppose."

Nick watched Greg spin the bottle for another moment, then rose from his chair and headed for the cabinet over the sink. He pulled the four shot glasses he'd given Greg last Christmas off the shelf and blew the dust out of them. He set them in a line on the table and pulled the bottle from Greg's loose grip, cracking the seal. He slowly poured four shots. "You don't have to face them alone, you know." He didn't look Greg in the face, as the usually happy-go-lucky CSI studied him. Greg dropped his gaze to his joined hands, rubbing at one palm with his other thumb. "You, the five of you, made a lovely picture. A picture that would seem really odd with me anywhere near it." He scrubbed his hands though his hair, leaving it standing on end. "And I'm enough of a shitty human being to be upset about it, instead of wanting my friends to be happy."

"Greg." Nick waited for him to look up, licked the back of his hand, salted it, salt, shot, lime. "She's not my type."

Greg said nothing, just cocked his head and contemplated him. "Look, I know you care about her," Nick started, "but the bleach blond hair, the fake nails, the high heels, the fake tan? She screams 'high maintenance,' if you ask me." Greg let a tiny smirk edge on to one side of his mouth, crossed his arms over his chest and looked down. "And she's manipulative. I don't like people who think they can play me. She reminds me a hell of a lot of my youngest sister, the one who's life mission is to get on 'Real housewives of Dallas.'"

Greg smirked a bit wider, bit his thumb nail. Without looking up at Nick, he reached for the salt shaker. Lick, salt. Salt, shot, lime. Grimaced a bit at the burn. "You got types, Stokes?" he asked quietly.

Nick kicked out with a heavily booted foot at the back leg of Greg's chair, spinning it until it faced his. He reached forward and took both of Greg's wrists in his hands and tugged, hard, pulling until Greg was straddling him in his chair. Greg rested the balls of his bare feet lightly on the floor and held on to the chair rails above Nick's broad shoulders for dear life. Nick let his hands rest lightly on the other man's waist. "Lanky CSI's, apparently." Nick laughed, then went serious, his two pinkie fingers stealing under the hem of Greg's t-shirt, making small circles on the warm skin they found there. Greg shivered and rested his palms on Nick's deltoids. "I'm not very good at this, G, and I know we'll have to work it out, but right now, I'd really like you to kiss me." Nick looked steadily into Greg's eyes, despite the blush rising from his neck. Greg cocked his head and bit his lip, looking down at his hands resting on Nick's shoulders. He slowly ran both palms towards the strong neck between them, ran his thumbs slowly up the column of Nick's throat as Nick swallowed, his fingers lightly moving up the back of his neck. He stopped when his thumbs reached earlobes, stroked them lightly as fingers massaged into the hairline behind them, still not looking Nick in the eye, but glancing up to see blown pupils and heavy lids. Greg closed his eyes and lightly ran the tip of his nose up one side of Nick's, then down the other side as Nick sharply inhaled and his eyes fluttered shut. Greg leaned in, just that last little bit, until their lips were almost touching and they were breathing the same air in short, stuttering breaths, then softly, gently touched their lips together. Nick's eyes shot open for just a second, before they firmly closed and he groaned, wrapping his arms firmly around the other man's waist, one arm moving up between shoulder blades and pressing them into him and one down, fisting the hem of Greg's t-shirt. Nick's mouth opened for Greg, and they devoured each other slowly, teeth clicking and lips wet with saliva.

Greg pulled his head back, slowly, carefully evading Nick's mouth as it followed him. He carefully reached behind him for the salt shaker, slowly bent his head and licked a long stripe up Nick's neck, from just above his t-shirt to right below his ear. Nick turned his head and bared his throat to the onslaught, breathing heavily. Greg carefully poured salt down Nick's neck as Nick watched out of the corner of a mostly closed eye, his fingers flexing convulsively on Greg's back. Greg reached for a lime wedge. With his other hand, he pulled on Nick's bottom lip. He tucked the wedge in Nick's mouth and reached behind him for a shot of Tequila, smirking. He licked the salt off the column of Nick's throat, took the shot, and took the lime wedge out of Nick's mouth with his teeth. He pulled the fruit out of his mouth and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, then reclaimed Nick's mouth. Nick lapped at the taste, tequila, salt, lime, Greg, and moaned into Greg's mouth. With seemingly superhuman strength, Nick stood, pulling Greg with him. Greg let one foot touch the ground but hooked the other around Nick's thigh as he ground their pelvises together. "Nicky" Greg moaned. "Please. Want you. Want this." Greg said softly between lapping at Nick's still salty neck and taking his earlobe between his teeth. Nick moved them down the hallway and pushed them into the wall outside Greg's bedroom and laced their fingers together, drawing Greg's hands up over his head and nuzzling behind the man's ear with his nose, before licking it. "Greg, I didn't want to rush this. I want it to be meaningful." He looked Greg in the eyes. "I don't want this to be a onetime thing. You mean too much to me." He looked for understanding in Greg's eyes. Greg smiled slowly, a predatory look in his eyes. "That's good, Stokes. Because, apparently, I don't share well with others. The idea of you doing this with anyone else makes me wanna claw their fucking eyeballs out."

Nick closed his eyes and smiled, resting his forehead briefly against Greg's. "That is so wrong and so fucking hot." He opened his eyes and looked into Greg's, who smiled at him and tugged him into the bedroom by their still joined hands. When Greg felt the back of his legs hit the bed, he dropped Nick's hands and tugged his own shirt over his head, tossing it away. He hooked his thumb in his jeans pocket and cocked his head at Nick as he ran his eyes over the pale torso, then followed with his hands. He ghosted his palms over hard nipples and Greg's head dropped to his shoulder. "Too many clothes, Nicky." "Well, then, help a guy out, Sanders," Nick hissed as he deftly popped the button on Greg's jeans. Greg, in turn, pulled Nick's tight black t-shirt out of his waist band and pulled it over his head, throwing it in the same vague direction that he'd thrown his own. He started to work on Nick's button fly, popping each button slowly, making sure to brush his knuckles over the hard length behind the buttons each time. Nick hissed and bit his lip as he retaliated by quickly unzipping Greg's fly and pulling both jeans and boxer briefs down to Greg's thighs, taking Greg in hand and squeezing from root to tip, rubbing his thumb along the moistened slit. Greg slid his hands down inside the back of Nick's unbuttoned jeans and pulled, trapping Nick's hand between them and grinding their hardnesses together. "Fuck….get these off already…" They quickly shucked their jeans and briefs to the floor. Greg turned away and crawled onto his bed, ass in the air and unashamed of the scars lacing his back.

He felt strong fingers delicately tracing their patterns and sucked in a breath. "Do they still hurt?" Nick asked, retracting his fingers. "No," Greg said, breathlessly, "they're just super sensitive. In a good way. Please don't stop." Nick wrapped one hand around a slim hip and instead of continuing to trace the scars with his fingers he used lips and tongue. Greg sank his head down and bit his own arm to keep from keening. Nick smiled as he worked his way up Greg's back, licking, suckling lightly, and between the scars delivering light nips. Greg heard a soft click and felt cool fluid seeping down the crack of his ass, followed by a slow finger. Nick continued to accost Greg's back as he gently entered Greg with one finger, working it in and out slowly before adding a second. Greg pushed back, fucking himself on Nick's fingers as he pulled at the hair on his forearm with his teeth.

"More, Nicky, please." Nick inserted a third finger and watched in amazement as Greg writhed on them. "Oh god, so good." Greg pulled away suddenly and flopped over on to his back. "I wanna see you, this time. I wanna see you come, I want to see your face when you come inside me." Nick poured some more of the slick substance into his palm and slowly slicked his own erection, before dipping his head and delivering a long slow lick from the base to the tip of Greg's. Greg reached over his head and took firm hold of the bars of the wrought iron headboard, opening his legs wider. Nick moved between them and positioned himself at Greg's slicked entrance. He pulled Greg's legs around his waist and slowly, agonizingly slowly, slid into Greg's tight heat. Greg cried out and buried his head in his own shoulder at the burn, one tear working out of his screwed-tight eyes. Nick shook like a leaf, but he stopped. "We don't have to do this, if it's too much…"

"Don't you dare stop," Greg thrust his hips up, changing the angle and causing Nick to cry out and grip those hips hard. Greg panted, then smiled up at Nick. "I'm not a damn girl, Nick. You're not going to break me. Now would you please fuck me like you mean it?" Nick let out a snarl a set a pace of thrusts that had the other man panting and crying out. "Give me your hand, G." Greg lowered one hand from the headboard and moved it to Nick's forearm. Nick reached for it, not slowing down at all. He looked into Greg's eyes as he wiped a broad stripe down Greg's palm with his tongue. "Touch yourself, baby. I want you to come for me." Greg's eyes smoldered as he took himself in hand and worked his fist over his hard flesh. Nick changed his angle again and found the spot that made Greg cry out and arch off the bed. His hand moved faster and Nick's hips pumped into him as streams of milky fluid spurted between them. Nick cried out and thrust once more into that amazing heat, before collapsing onto the man beneath him in a sticky, sated heap.

Resting his eyes for only a moment, he slowly pulled himself free and flopped onto his back next to the other man, trying to catch his breath. "I thought you said you weren't any good at this," Greg teased, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Nick opened his eyes and looked sideways at his bedmate, too wiped to even turn his head. "Not the sex part," he smiled, "the relationship stuff. I'm not good at sitting around talking about my feelings and crap. That mandatory therapy I had to do just about fucking killed me." Greg propped himself on his elbows and looked over at the man next to him. "I reiterate, I am not a damn girl. Just because I want to fuck you doesn't mean I want to sit around and braid each others' hair, for Christ's sake. But I will say this, I meant what I said before…I don't share." Nick smiled at the ceiling. "Good. I don't either." Greg fished around for a one of their t-shirts to clean them up a bit, then pulled the blankets over them. He threw a leg and an arm over Nick possessively, and sighed into his shoulder. "Well, we've got that worked out, anyway. We'll figure the rest out as we go along. Now get some sleep; I know you've got to be exhausted…." Nick was snoring quietly. Greg sighed contentedly to himself and let sleep claim him, as well. They'd work the rest out, as they went along.

a/n more twists and turns to come, my pretties.


	14. Chapter 14

What Did You Do?

Chapter Fourteen

Greg awoke slowly out of a deep sleep, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back like a cat. Eyes still closed, strong hands threaded themselves through his as a toothpaste flavored mouth descended on his. Greg groaned and worked his hands loose to card through short, damp hair, smiling lazily into the kiss. When Nick finally pulled back, Greg opened his eyes sleepily. "Hi."

Nick smiled widely, "Hi, yourself. I borrowed a few things. Hope that's okay."

"What's mine is yours, Stokes. So let's see… toothbrush," he ran his tongue over Nick's lower lip, "razor," running his fingers over Nick's jaw, "t-shirt?" running his palms over Nick's chest. "You do realize if you wear that shirt to work, eyebrows will be raised?"

"You missed boxers," Nick countered, temporarily evading the topic. Greg raised an eyebrow and surveyed the man sitting on the edge of his bed. "Really. Which ones?"

"You can find out later."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"What about our coworkers and their… curiosity."

Nick ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. "Greggo, we work at the second best forensics lab in the country. Our colleagues are trained investigators." Nick sighed. "Look, I know we haven't really talked about this, but I don't care if they know. I think they'll figure it out eventually, anyway. So, I figure, I won't announce anything, but maybe I just won't try real hard to hide it." He smiled uncertainly.

"What, exactly would they figure out, Nick? That we're…what, dating?"

"How about together? I like the sound of that better."

"Me too." Greg smiled and rested his head on his crossed arms, gazing at the ceiling.

"Well," Nick said, balancing himself on the hands he'd placed on either side of Greg's head, "I gotta go to work. Would you please get your phone squared away? I don't like not being able to reach you." He pecked Greg on the mouth. "I put coffee on for you, by the way."

"You're the best, Stokes," Greg said before pulling Nick into a more intense kiss. "And I will. I gotta go talk to Cass, too," he said, checking the watch on Nick's wrist. "I need to set her straight on a few things, and I need to ask her about Brandon's nightmares. I'll text you as soon as my phone is up."

Nick safely out to work, Greg adequately caffeinated, music blasting one of his favorite old tracks, Greg jumped in the shower. As he soaped up he realized he could smell his soap and shampoo on Nick when he'd leaned over him earlier. He liked that idea a lot, twisted though it might seem. Like some archaic marking of territory. He grinned. "Mine," he thought.

In an extraordinarily good mood, Greg put a little extra time into his hair after digging through the cabinet for the gel he hadn't used for ages. He smiled to himself in the mirror as he sang along with the blasting music. He thought about stopping to pick up a six pack of Nick's beer on the way, just to see if he got carded this time. He laughed as he turned and surveyed his coif from the side. Awesome. He threw on one of his favorite shirts, grabbed his keys, phone and wallet, locked the door, and pointed his Jetta toward the phone store.

An hour and a couple hundred bucks later, Greg left the phone store with an updated, powered, and, thankfully, toilet-water free, phone. He programmed in a new ring tone for speed dial #1, smirking to himself. He sent off a quick text to Nicky to let him know he was up and running. He grinned broadly as the texts that had been logged while his phone was out of service came through…several and all from Nick. He sighed and frowned; he was procrastinating and he knew it. He bit the inside of his lip. He really needed to go and talk to Cassie, but he really didn't want to. He sighed to himself again in resignation, and turned his car toward the house with peeling paint in Henderson.

The late evening sun flashed in the rear view mirror as Greg turned towards Henderson, almost below the horizon as Greg turned onto Cassie's street. Greg jogged his Jetta out of the way of a reckless driver swerving down the road, cursing as he tried to get plate numbers out his rear view, retrieving the last three digits. He'd call it in later. A moment later Greg pulled up to Cassie's house, where the lights were out and the front door, disturbingly, was hanging wide open. Greg threw his car into park and approached the house warily. "Cass?" he called out carefully, peering into the living area behind the open front door. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. He pulled out his new cell, glad to have it with him, and called dispatch for ambulance and police, identifying himself as CSI already on the scene. Then he called Nick as he carefully walked in to the living room and felt for and found a weak pulse on Cassie, blood still pulsing out of the contusion on her forehead. As he tried to put gentle pressure on the cut on her forehead, he realized there was also extensive damage to the back of her head. He looked around and saw a chunk of hair and skin on the old trunk in front of the sofa. "Stokes." Nick had finally picked up.

"Nicky, I need you. In Henderson. Please." Nick could hear the barely contained terror in the CSI's voice, something that chilled Nick. He couldn't remember a time Greg hadn't been cool and collected in a crisis…often more so than seasoned investigators. "What's happened, Greg, talk me through it." He was already grabbing his keys and jacket and was heading for the parking lot.

Greg took a deep breath and called on his professional acumen, if only as a defense mechanism. "Cassie. I got here and the front door was wide open." He heard Nick take a deep breath, knowing that was not normal for that household. "Cassie's lying on the floor. She's still alive. Pulse is weak. I called for ambulance and police. But I need you here….please."

"Greg, where are the kids?" Greg looked up and listened intently. He thought he could hear soft crying from the direction of the kids bedroom. "I think they're okay. The bedroom door's closed and I can hear them. I don't want them to come out and see this. There's blood fucking everywhere."

"G. You're a consummate professional. Use it now, darlin'. Cassie and the kids need you to be strong for them right now. Do what you know needs to be done. I'm running the lights and I'll be there soon…ten minutes at the outside. Hang on."

He hung up so he could focus on his driving, speeding through the East Las Vegas with his cherries on, speeding towards the man, and the little family that desperately needed his help.


	15. Chapter 15

What Did You Do?

A/N Don't own, just adore in a probably unhealthy way. Thanks so much for reviews!

Chapter Fifteen

When Nick pulled his SUV onto the already familiar street, he could see the flashing lights of several emergency vehicles. The ambulance was backed right over the scrubby grass of the front yard and Nick could see the EMTs working a loaded gurney down the steps, holding an IV bag aloft. He threw his truck in park and scanned for Greg and the kids, finding only Greg, leaning against the back of a black and white, blood down the front of his shirt and pants and covering his hands. Greg looked up and locked eyes with Nick in obvious relief. Nick flashed his I.D. card as he made his way towards the stricken man.

"Nicky, thank god. You've got to get me processed so I can get out of these clothes and get the kids. They won't come out of hiding for these guys…I didn't want to go in looking like this. You got coveralls in the truck?" he asked, all business, at least for the moment.

Nick nodded and motioned him back to his truck, opened the rear doors and pulled out a paper evidence bag and a navy blue forensics jumpsuit. Greg carefully stripped to his briefs and put his jeans and shirt in the bag. He held out his hands for Nick to take swabs of the blood and pictures of his hands, front and back. By the time he'd finished, Captain Brass had strolled up.

"So, Sanders, you want to explain to me why you were here, covered in blood?"

"Can I get the kids first?"

"You want them to hear it too?"

"Point taken." Greg took a deep breath and went to run his hands through his hair, stopped as he realized they were still covered in blood. Nick handed his some moistened wipes and stood by in silent support, ready to jump in if Brass jumped to conclusions. "The victim, Cassie Rogers, is a friend of mine from way back. I take care of her kids sometimes, and I'm listed as their legal guardian in case of emergencies. I was stopping by to talk to her and check on the kids. When I turned the corner to this street, I was almost sideswiped by a red Chevy Blazer, mid 90's, I've got the last 3 of the license plate. When I got here…"he took in a deep, shuttering breath, and Nick put a hand to the small of his back. Greg flashed his eyes briefly to Nick's taking strength. The interchange did not go unnoticed by the Captain, who filed it away for future reference. "When I got here, the door was hanging open. I knew then something was really wrong. Michael, her oldest, likes to door dash so the door's always bolted. The lights were off. I saw her lying on the floor. I called it in right away. I checked for pulse and tried to administer first aid. Can I go get the kids, now?" Brass finished writing in his notebook, looked up, nodded once. "Nicky, can you help me? I don't want them seeing the living room, and they know you."

"Of course, but give me your keys, first." Greg dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them over, not understanding why, until he saw Nick moving his kit and equipment to his Jetta. "Take the truck. I'll process and join you guys at the hospital as soon as I can." he dug his own keys out of his pocket and stuck them in the pocket of the navy coveralls Greg was wearing, along with Greg's wallet, phone and I.D. Again, Brass raised half an eyebrow at the familiarity of the interchange, but said nothing.

Greg stepped into the kids' bedroom and looked around, not seeing any of the kids. He panicked for a split second, but the female officer on duty there motioned him to the small closet. "They're in there," she said softly, "I think they're okay, they didn't seem to have any blood on them or be injured, just scared. I think the oldest pulled them in there to protect them." Greg nodded gratefully to her and opened the closet door slowly. He slowly sat cross-legged in front of the opened door. "Michael, it's me. You're safe. You did good. You can come out, I'm here. Nick's here, too." Michael crawled out of the bottom of the closet, pushing aside the piles of kid detritus that had accumulated or been pulled there. He crawled out and climbed into Greg's lap, clinging to his neck, wide-eyed but silent. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, which he hadn't done in at least a couple of years. Greg peered into the depths of the closet to see Trina sitting awkwardly in Brandon's grasp, Brandon's little legs and arms wrapped around her. His tear-streaked face was red and snotty. Greg nodded solemnly at Brandon. "You are very brave little boys. Even Spider Man would be proud." Michael hiccupped into his neck. Greg looked up at Nick as he entered the room. "I've got their seats in the truck." Greg gazed at him, gratefully. "Thank you. Can you take big man, here?" Nick nodded and reached for Michael, who went willingly to him. Greg gently extricated Trina from Brandon's grasp and handed her to the female officer. Then Greg rose, stooped into the closet and pulled Brandon to him. Brandon hid his face in his neck. Greg grabbed the diaper bag off the back of the closet door. "Don't let them see, please," he said lowly to the uniformed officer and Nick. They both nodded and lightly covered the kids' heads with small blankets from the crib. Deep breath, and they walked them through the living room and out to the truck. As Greg fastened them in to belts and car seats, Trina watched the flashing lights, mesmerized.

"Sanders." Brass approached them as Greg was buckling himself in the drivers seat. "Pediatrics at Desert Palm is waiting on them, going to check them over and make sure they're okay. I'm going to go out on a limb and let you process them, though it doesn't seem like they were near the incident." Greg nodded, "Thanks," as he put Nick's truck in gear and headed for the hospital.


	16. Chapter 16

What Did You Do?

Chapter Sixteen

Several hours later, Nick pulled in to Desert Palms hospital, all too familiar with it's parking and layouts. He desperately wanted to find Greg and the kids, but he had work to do first. He flashed his I.D. at the front desk of the E.R. The older nurse behind the counter recognized Nick from previous visits and smiled kindly at the CSI as she asked how she could help him. "Cassie Rogers," he replied. She picked up a clipboard and scanned it carefully, clicking her tongue and shaking her head sadly. She picked up a phone and made a quick call. She looked up at Nick, "the doctor on her case will be out shortly." Nick paced for a moment or two impatiently. A doctor in scrubs and lab coat came through the swinging doors that led to the exam rooms and surgery suites, scanned the room briefly and made his way towards the man in the CSI vest. "Mister Stokes?" he asked, reaching out to shake Nick's hand. "You're here about Ms. Rogers? I'm sorry but she just passed. Do you want to process her here, or should I just send her along to the M.E.?"

Nick took in a sharp breath and let out a muttered expletive, wiping one hand quickly over his eyes. "Send her on to Doc Robbins at the M.E. Her kids…..?" He trailed off.

The doctor shook his head. "They've been waiting with Mr. Sanders, upstairs in the waiting room in Peds. I haven't told him yet. Would you prefer to?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Doc."

Nick wound his way up to Pediatrics, tipping his head or giving an absent-minded half wave to the hospital personnel that recognized him along the way, with his focus on the quirky CSI he was on his way towards. And those suddenly motherless kids. Kids he'd only met a few days ago, but he'd so quickly become enamored with. He took out the stuffed cat he'd smashed into his jacket pocket and stroked it, smiling sadly as he leaned against the back wall of the elevator. Small comfort, he knew, but it was something. He stepped out of the elevator and followed the hallway towards the brightly painted waiting room. He found Greg, slouched down on the sofa with his feet crossed and resting on top of the ancient and odd magazines splayed over the coffee table, head back against the sofa cushions. Little Trina was asleep on his chest, each of the boys snuggled up to one of his sides, sound asleep with Greg's thighs as pillows. Nick sat on the coffee table and lightly dropped a hand on Greg's shin.

Greg woke with a start, "What? What's happened."

"Shhh. Shush, G. You'll wake the kids." Greg looked Nick straight in the eye and asked softly, meaningfully, one word, "Cassie?"

Nick's lips thinned into a grim line as he kept Greg's eyes and slowly shook his head. Greg closed his eyes and let his head sink back into the cushions. He took his hands from where they had been resting on the boys backs and rubbed his closed eyes with the heels of his palms, hard. "Fuck." he said quietly.

"There's more, G. We've got the guy with the red Blazer for questioning…he'd been picked up a few miles away after he ran his truck into a lamp post. He had blood on his shirt and pants. We're running the DNA to see if any of it is Cassie's." Nick took a deep breath, ran his hand up and down Greg's shin. "What else?" Greg asked, eyes still closed. Nick winced, but continued. "Both the Blazer guy and Cassie's fingerprints turned up in a case I've been working…a homicide. Blazer guy's prints were also on the front and back of the door to Cassie's place." Greg seemed eerily silent as he absorbed all the information. Nick continued, "Greg, DCF is here. They need to take the kids."

"Fuck, no, they won't," Greg said, his voice a steely whisper. "I'm their legal guardian in case of emergency. I made Cass have papers drawn up at the same time I made her get life insurance. They're not going anywhere but home with me." He looked up at Nick, eyes hard and resolved, but voice shaking. Nick smiled sadly back at the man. "Greg, you know how this works. We'll get the paperwork straightened out as soon as we can, but with an active murder investigation, they need to do this by the book." Nick stood and took Trina out of Greg's arms as a DCF agent and her assistant came into the waiting area, file chart in her arms. Nick leaned down and wrapped a hand around Greg's neck, pulling his so he could speak softly into his ear. "You're the only one who can make this okay for them, Greggo. Make them not be scared about it. You've got to be strong for them right now." Greg held a shaking hand over his eyes and nodded briefly. "I promise I'll take you somewhere quiet and you can fall apart if you need to, but not in front of them, okay?"

Greg nodded again and took a deep breath. He gently woke up the boys and sat them next to each other on the table in front of him. Michael yawned and rubbed his eyes with his fists, while Brandon rubbed his sleeve across a snotty nose. "Give me that god-awful handkerchief I know you have in your pocket, Nick." Nick smirked a bit and complied, watching as Greg proceeded to use it to dig the snot out of Brandon's nose and then encourage him to blow. Greg smiled broadly, if somewhat falsely at the boys. "Michael, you and Brandon, and Trina, you're gonna go stay at a nice place where there's lots of other kids and all kinds of toys." Michael, thumb in mouth, shook his head at Greg. "It will be fun, I promise. You know what else I promise? I'll come and get you all just as soon as I can. Now you're going to go with my friend…" he looked up at the DCF agent, who mouthed back "Mary", "Mary, and her friend. And you're going to take care of your brother and sister, just like you always do." Greg smiled at the boys and dropped a hand onto the tops of their heads. "I love you guys." Both boys gave Greg hugs and loud smacking kisses, as Mary made a few notes in her file. Greg handed the boys over to her and turned to take Trina from Nick. He ran a hand over her soft hair and gave her the stuffed cat Nick had set on the table. "Kitty. Love you princess." Trina replied with her signature "maaaaaaaa" blown kiss. Greg smirked as he handed her to Mary's assistant. "Take good care of them, please," he begged, eyes bright. Mary nodded as she stepped towards the elevator with the kids and assistant in tow.

Greg stared dumbly after them as the elevator doors closed. He felt a warm hand on his wrist. Nick pulled him gently along the hallway, Greg stumbling once or twice, until they reached the small, and thankfully empty, chapel. Nick turned the shell-shocked man into his arms and held him tightly, mouth near the other man's ear. "It's okay, baby, fall apart if you want to. I've got you. It'll be okay, I swear. Somehow we'll make it okay." Greg fisted the back of the t-shirt Nick was wearing-his-and buried his face in the crook of Nick's neck, silent, sloppy sobs wracking his frame. Maybe it would be okay, but right now, in this moment, even in Nick's comforting arms, it was hard to see it.


	17. Chapter 17

What Did You Do?

A/N Not mine. Your reviews make me giddy with delight. Much thanks! Hope this one meets your approval as well.

Chapter Seventeen

Greg stared stony-eyed out of the window of Nick's SUV as the lights of Vegas passed them by, not really seeing anything. His mind was numb, but his manner determined. Once he'd pulled himself together enough to get out of the hospital without embarrassing himself, he'd asked-demanded-Nick take him to work. He wanted to see the man that killed Cassie. Nick knew it was a bad idea, and had told him as much, but Greg's mind was made up. Nick knew he had to prevent Greg from doing anything that could damage their case against the guy…he wanted him to go down almost as much as Greg did. But that meant keeping Greg from strangling the guy. Nick studied the man next to him carefully as he drove. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen such a look of cold, controlled, fury on his face before. He was certainly glad it wasn't directed at him as he vowed to himself to do everything in his power to make sure it never _was_ directed at him. He shook his head a bit, chastising himself for being selfish. Their were bigger concerns at hand at the moment.

Once they got to the lab, Greg took a quick detour to the locker room to change from the coveralls to some spare clothes from his locker. Nick waited patiently, then followed Greg silently as he headed to holding to see Blazer Guy. Nick felt the tension pouring off Greg in waves as he strode through the outer cell doors of holding towards the drunk tank. He stopped several yards away from the correct cell. "The one with his head in the bucket, that's our Blazer Guy," Nick stated quietly, leafing quickly through the file he'd snagged from his office on the way down. Greg froze, every muscle in his body rigid, his hands fisted so hard his knuckles turned white. "Brian Jenkins." Greg said quietly. Nick looked up, surprised. "Yeah, how'd you know that?" Greg turned on his heel and retraced his steps back to the lab, Nick right behind him. When he reached the break room he went immediately to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. Nick was really worried. He'd never seen Greg drink the office crap, ever, no matter what was going on. But Greg didn't drink it. He sat it on the table and took a seat in front of it. He stared down into it, laced his fingers into his hair and rested his elbows on the table.

Nick crossed his ankles and leaned against the wall, holding the file to his chest and staring at the ceiling. "Tell me," he asked quietly.

"He's Brandon's father, my ex-landlord's son."

"Aw, hell."

Greg dragged his hands through his hair and slumped into the chair. He took a swig out of the cup of coffee in front of him and grimaced. "God, that's awful." Nick smirked at the ceiling, then sighed. He pushed away from the wall and took a seat opposite Greg, stole a swig of his coffee. "Yeah, it is. We need to figure out how to proceed. I wanna make sure we nail this bastard. I don't want him to ever be able to come back and impact you or Brandon." Nick paused, looked down at his hands. "We need to talk to Catherine. Okay?" Greg looked up at Nick through eyes that looked like they'd been through a war in the last twenty four hours. "Okay." Greg agreed, "As much as I wanna nail this bastard, I don't want him getting out on a technicality like conflict of interest."

Catherine was at her desk tapping away on her computer as they entered, closing the door behind them. She looked up at the sound and her expression changed to a mask of sympathy. She rose and came around the desk to lightly rest her hands on Greg's shoulders. She moved one hand to Greg's cheek, a rare sign of affection from their supervisor. "How are you holding up, kiddo?" she asked. Greg smiled grimly and shook his head silently. Catherine gave him a quick hug and returned to her seat as Greg crossed his arms and paced, chewing on his already ragged fingernails. Nick turned the visitors chair slightly so he could see both Catherine and the pacing man and rested his elbow on the desk, chin in his hand.

"Catherine, I might have to officially recuse myself from Cassie Roger's homicide." Catherine took off her reading glasses and dropped them on the desk, leaned back and gripped the arms of her chair. "You haven't been officially assigned to that case, you were just first on the scene. And you need to recuse yourself because…?"

Nick scratched at his ear as he watched Greg pace and chew his nails. He ran his hand over his face, then rested his chin on his fist. "I've been to the deceased's house. I've met her. I know her kids and have a vested interest in the outcome of the case. And then, of course, there's Greg." He cast his eyes toward the man without moving his head as Greg stopped in his tracks to look back, pulling his fingernail away from his mouth and working his jaw. "What about Greg, specifically?" Catherine asked cryptically, folding her hands in her lap and raising an eyebrow. Nick held Greg's gaze for moments, waiting for any kind of acquiescence. Greg cocked his head, shrugged a shoulder, and went back to pacing.

"We're….." Nick faltered, not sure how to word it.

"You're, what? Dating? Shacking up? Living together? 'Special friends?'" She used air quotes on the last. Nick shot her the very rare Stokes puzzled #7, this one involving his brows moving up and down his forehead as he worked this one out. "How did you…?"

"I'm a trained, seasoned investigator, Nicky. Give me a little credit." Greg snorted as he continued to pace, and Nick threw him a look. He scratched at his ear. "That had occurred to me, Cath. Look, we haven't really worked out all the details yet, and I know, work wise this is something we'll have to discuss, but later. Right now my main concern is putting this case to rest, as well as the related case. And getting those kids out of Social Services. Chances are better for Greg to get the kids without it being contested if we can close this case."

"Related case?" Catherine queried.

"Human Stewie. Cassie's fingerprints came up, as well as the guy that we have in holding that we want for her murder. His was the one in the victims blood, and there were several small partials on the suitcase handle Mandy was able to piece together and identify as Cassie's."

"Cripes, what did that girl get into this time." She sighed, then winced, apologizing quickly to Greg. Greg shook it off. "You're not off base, Catherine. I don't know what she was into. Apparently there was a lot she hid from me. Oh, and new development…Blazer Guy? The one we want for this? He's Brandon's father." Catherine breathed in sharply and swore under her breath. "Okay. We are going to officially turn this case over to …"she looked down at a clipboard, "Sara. Nicky, pull all your evidence, except that reeking suitcase, to layout three. I'll page Sara. I still want you on this, Nicky, just don't sign anything from here on. Greg…" she stepped around the desk again, and rested a hand on his arm.

"I know I can't officially participate, Catherine. But you can let me in. I'll beat it out of Nick, anyway. And I promise you, I won't do anything to jeopardize this case. I really, really want this guy to go away. Preferably, forever." He looked at Catherine, expression sad, eyes grim, but determined.

"Okay. Twenty minutes. Layout three, council of war. Nobody gets to take down our family without consequences." Greg smiled widely and hugged her. He turned to leave the room, but then turned back, struck by a horrible idea. "Nick, you still got one of Trina's pacifiers in your pocket?" Nick fished it out and held it up, looking at Greg in silent question. Greg took it from him carefully and headed towards DNA. "Cass never told me who Trina's father was. Maybe we should find out if we already know him." Greg said enigmatically as he stepped away, hoping he was right and wrong at the same time.


	18. Chapter 18

What Did You Do?

Chapter Eighteen

On his way down the hallway, Greg snagged Sara as she headed in the other direction. "Hey, I was headed.."

"Towards layout three, I know. I need your signature first. It'll only take a sec." Sara shrugged and followed him to the DNA lab.

Wendy looked up from her microscope as they entered the lab, cocking her head quizzically at the pacifier Greg held carefully in front of him. "Cutting teeth, are we Greg?"

He shook his head, "No, I need you to pull DNA off this, and do a search for familial DNA matches."

"Sure." She took a pen out of her pocket and picked a clipboard off a peg on the wall. "Which case number is this in reference to?" she asked as she held her pen above the clipboard.

"Crap, I don't know. It might be in reference to two cases. Do you know the case number for the Cassie Rogers case?"

Wendy shuffled through a few files in the outbox on the corner of her desk. "Yeah, I got it. I thought that was Nick's case?"

"It's about to be turned over to Sara, officially. Sara can sign the evidence log." Sara shrugged and complied, trusting her colleague to clue her in eventually.

"Am I looking for anything specifically?"

"Well, you could start by cross referencing it with Nick's human stew. For starters. If that doesn't pan out, try the criminal DNA database. That girl had rotten taste in men." Wendy and Sara looked at each other, confused, and shrugged again.

"I'll get right on it. Rush?" Greg nodded, fidgeting impatiently as Sara finished filling out the form. The second she was done Greg pulled her back into the hallway and towards layout. "Aren't you still on vacation?" she queried. "Yeah," Greg responded tersely, "but my friend, the mother of that pacifier's owner, was murdered several hours ago." Sara made sympathetic noises and gripped Greg's hand briefly in support, stopping herself from saying their standard "I'm sorry for your loss," in the nick of time, instead just asking if he needed anything. Greg offered a small smile and shook his head, "Thanks. If you could do anything for me, you could help put the bastard that killed her away forever." Sara nodded her head. "I'll do everything I can. Why isn't Nick taking the case….?"

Greg stopped and turned to look at his longtime friend and colleague, wondering how best to answer her. "It's complicated," he finally decided on. "Possible conflict of interest," he added. Sara pinched her lips and pushed an errant strand of hair out of her narrowed eyes. "You'll explain that all to me at some point." Not a question, a statement. Even in his distracted frame of mind Greg couldn't fight the slight blush that colored his cheeks. "Yes ma'am." he responded. She punched him lightly in the bicep. "Yes, Mrs. Grissom?" he smirked as raised her hand to smack at the back of his head. "Alright already, stop. I will, Sara, I promise. We'll sit down and I'll buy you a bottle of that god-awful wine you like and I'll tell you all about it. But right now we gotta get this guy, okay?" She smiled fondly at her colleague and made an 'after you' gesture at the door to layout three.

Catherine and Nick were waiting on them as they assembled their files on the layout table. Catherine nodded at Sara as she entered. "Sara, for protocol's sake, and to cover out collective asses, you'll be officially assigned as lead on this case, and you'll sign on any evidence collected. CSI Stokes will assist, but has officially recused himself, citing possible conflict of interest." Sara nodded in understanding. Catherine crossed her arms and let out a deep breath. "Okay, that out of the way, tell us what you got, Nicky."

Nick nodded and looked back briefly at Greg, who paced quietly along the wall, watching him for a moment before turning back to the lighted layout table and the ladies leaning over it. "Okay. Two related cases. Case one, victim has been identified as Stewart Carter, age 32, of Las Vegas, formerly assistant pit boss at the Tangiers. He was found four days ago in this" Nick pointed out a picture of the suitcase "apparently extremely expensive suitcase in a dumpster in Henderson. Doc Robbins states probable COD as a collapsed windpipe and/or blunt force trauma to the back of the head. He can't determine which was the actual cause of death due to the state of decomp, but the vertebrae were crushed, so we're probably looking for a man. Doc said approximate TOD was four to six days before we found him." Nick laid out pictures of the victim and attached x-rays of the skull and neck to the light board. "At the victim's home I found blood pool and spatter. Several prints, including the thumbprint of this man" he attached an intake photo of Brian Jenkins to the white board, and wrote 'suspect' above it, "in the victim's blood, which is pretty damning. This man," he tapped the photo with a finger, "was seen leaving the vicinity of case number two, and was picked up with a DUI after running his truck into a lamp post. Victim number two," Nick looked towards Greg, who continued to pace and chew his nails, "Cassie Rogers. Brian Jenkins is the father of one of her children. His prints were also at that scene and he had Cassie's blood on his clothing when he was pulled over. Doc Robbins hasn't finished her autopsy results yet, but they should be up shortly." He stopped to take a deep breath, trying to sort out all the details of the two cases in his mind. In the meantime, Catherine pulled the picture of the suitcase towards her and studied it. "Didn't we get anything on the owner of the suitcase?" she asked. Nick nodded and reached for another picture from the file, setting it on the table with the others. "This is the owner of the suitcase, but, strangely, her prints weren't on it. She was, however, rumored to be involved romantically with the victim. The only prints we found on it were partials, and they belonged to victim number two, Cassie Rogers." Sara picked up the picture of the suitcase owner and studied it. "That's odd. If it's hers you'd think her prints would be on it, somewhere. What was her name?" Nick checked his notes. "Evelyn Von Horn. Native of New York, she keeps a permanent suite at the-" Sara cut him off "Tangiers?" Nick nodded, perplexed. Sara held up a hand and pulled out her cell, making a call and putting the cell on the table after enabling the speaker phone. "Brown." Warrick answered. "Yeah, Warrick, does the name Evelyn Von Horn ring a bell?" Warrick responded with a low growl, "Yes. I interviewed her on that triple, Sara. She has a suite on the same floor as our scene, but we didn't find any connection. She was a real piece of work. Terminally unhelpful. Why?" Sara looked around at the rest of the CSI's in the room. "I think you need to bring the file up here to layout three. We're having a family meeting and appear to be one short." She ended the call after he agreed. "I think this just got even more complicated," Catherine sighed.

Warrick arrive in the room a few moments later, file box in hand. They made room for him on the layout table and shuffled pictures of evidence, victims, and suspects, like cards from some obscene game.

Wendy quietly slipped in as they were busy and handed a printout to Greg, who nodded his thanks as she receded from the room. "Crap." he muttered to himself quietly, under the radar of everyone but Nick, who looked his way sharply. Greg approached the layout table and looked down at the pictures that had begun to be rearranged by suspect and victim. He rested his fists on the table and leaned in as Warrick placed three more pictures under the victim heading, from the triple homicide at the Tangiers, the one at which Sara and he had reached a dead end.

Greg suddenly went 3 more shades of white. "Fuck me sideways." Everyone looked at him in shock. He moved to the head of the table and started rearranging the photos, placing Cassie's in the center. "Here's our connection, he started, speaking slowly, more deliberately than the rest of the team had ever heard. "This is the victim, Cassie Rogers, if she is just a victim and not also a suspect. This," he place the photo of Stewart to one side of hers, "is the father of her youngest child." He let that sink in for everyone, including himself. "This," he moved another photo, Jenkins, "sack of human flesh sitting in holding, is the father of her middle child." He took a deep breath and pulled one of Warrick's victims photos towards him, sighing sadly and shaking his head slowly. "This," he set the photo directly above Cassie's so all three men were orbiting her, "is Mike Reynolds. My college roommate." Nick locked eyes with him, shocked, but offering all the support he could, silently. "He's the father of Cassie's oldest child."


	19. Chapter 19

What Did You Do?

a/n Don't own. And out of coffee. Ack.

Chapter Nineteen

Brian Jenkins sat stiffly in the straight backed chair in the interrogation room, arms crossed over his orange clad chest and gaze firmly planted on the far wall. Captain Brass sat casually in the chair opposite, flipping through a file. He so loved to sweat a suspect. The court appointed attorney sitting next to Jenkins tapped her pen impatiently on the table.

"Captain Brass, do you have any intention of actually interviewing my client today, or are you just wasting our time?"

Brass raised a careful eyebrow, not looking her way as he responded. "Just waiting on my partner. She'll be along any second I'm sure. Why, you got another dirt bag that desperately needs your services?" He looked appraisingly at Jenkins. Jenkins only responded by working his jaw and rotating his neck, cracking it, but not moving his eyes from the far wall.

Behind the mirrored glass partition, Greg stood still but for the thumbnail he chewed. He looked briefly down at his hands, grimacing. He wouldn't have any nails left, soon. He shook his head and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He leaned against the back wall as Nick entered. "You know you shouldn't be in here." Greg let his head hit the wall behind him. "Neither should you, technically, Nick. You going to try to make me leave?" Nick leaned against the wall next to Greg, their upper arms brushing. "Nah. Don't think it would do any good anyway. How you doing?"

Greg turned his head just enough to study Nick's profile. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm really not sure. I'm trying to wrap my head around this case, figure out what Cassie was into. Wondering if I could have stopped it somehow, kept a closer eye on her." He paused, "And I'm worried about the kids. I hate thinking of them in a children's home." He chewed on his lip. "And I'm terrified, honestly. I don't want those kids going to anyone but me, but I don't know if I can handle them on my own. I worry that someone will contest the legality of my guardianship. I mean, a single guy, working crazy hours in a dangerous job? I keep trying to work it out in my head, you know. Daycare, work schedules….cripes, I have to get a bigger car. And where the hell are we going to live? I can't raise three kids in a one bedroom apartment." He let his head hit the wall again. "I feel like I'm drowning, man."

Nick reached out and wrapped his hand around Greg's wrist, tugging his hand gently from his pocket. He laced his fingers through Greg's as Greg rubbed their palms together. "You got a life raft, right here, anytime you need it." Greg squeezed the hand in his and closed his eyes tightly. "Thanks, Nicky," he sighed softly. He quickly dropped Nick's hand as Catherine entered observation, eying them carefully. "You guys aren't here, right?" They looked at each other and back at Catherine before nodding in unison. She turned and surveyed the scene on the other side of the glass, watching the lack of expression on the suspect's face as Sara entered interrogation, his eyes barely flicking to Sara before returning his gaze to the wall.

"Mr. Jenkins, I'm Sara Sidle, I'm with the crime lab. I certainly hope you're feeling better today." Jenkins eyed her uneasily, trying to figure out her angle. Sara pulled out a photo from the file she'd brought in with her and slid it face up towards the large man in orange. "Can you tell me about your relationship with this woman, Cassie Rogers?" The man looked at the photo and sneered, "the sperm bank, you mean?" He pulled one hand away from his hulk of a chest and cracked his knuckles, "She's been bleeding me dry on child support for three years, the bitch."

"Well having a child is a big responsibility, Mr. Jenkins. I'm sure you wanted the best for your son," Brass put in, smiling with mock sincerity.

Jenkins snarled at him as his attorney tried to calm him down. "I didn't want a kid. One night, drunk, all she was supposed to be was a lay. Instead, I get saddled paying the rent on that shit hole she stays in. And if I don't pay, I lose my drivers license, and I can't work."

"What exactly is it you do, Mr. Jenkins?" Sara asked.

"I drive limos for one of the hotels. And I provide…security for some of the more important guests."

Before anyone could say anything else, a man wearing thousand dollar loafers and an Armani suit steamed in like he owned the place. "I have been retained to represent Mr. Jenkins, this interview is over. I advise my client to shut his mouth." Jenkins looked at the man for a moment, then turned and gave the others in the room a menacing grin.

"Just who exactly retained you, Mr….?" Sara asked.

The man handed her his card "Bryce Statler. I've been retained by a friend of Mr. Jenkins. Now, if you'll excuse us, I must meet with my client. We will see you at the bail hearing." He signaled imperiously for the uniform outside the door to take his client away.

The court appointed attorney gathered her things, handing the file she had off to Mr. Statler. "I have _others_ that desperately need my services," throwing a look at Brass, who smiled in return.

Meanwhile, the ADA had entered observation. She watched the exchange with sharp eyes and then turned to the CSI's in the room.

"He's been retained by Evelyn Von Horn." she told them, running eyes over Nick and Greg. "He's pushing the conflict of interest point, questioning the veracity of evidence collected at Roger's house. It's a damn good thing you two aren't here, right?" She turned to Catherine. "Send them home. This guy's a shark. I don't want him even smelling them in the building."

Catherine turned to them, looking them up and down. "Boys, go home. Get some rest."

Greg tried to protest, but she only put her hands up. "My hands are tied. Go home. You're both exhausted, anyway." Greg looked over at Nick, realizing that the man probably hadn't slept in twenty four hours. He sighed. "Okay Catherine. Give me your keys, Nicky."

Nick dug them out of his pocket and handed them over, realizing how tired he really was. He followed Greg out of the building towards his SUV, squinting in the midday sun. Once in route, Nick's head fell back against the seat and he didn't wake until they were parked in front of his townhouse. He rotated the kink out of his neck and shook his head. He got out and headed towards his door, when he turned and realized Greg hadn't gotten out of the truck yet. Puzzled, still a bit groggy, Nick went around to the driver's side and tapped on the window. Greg rolled the window down. "I didn't know if you wanted me to come in." Nick smiled and looked at the ground, stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "How am I supposed to get in, when you have my keys?" Greg blushed at the mistake. "And yeah, I want you to come in. There's something I want to show you."

Greg put the truck in park, rolled up the windows, turned off the ignition and got out. He handed Nick his keys and followed him to his door. Nick unlocked it and let Greg proceed him into the house, looking around curiously as he went. Nick dropped his keys on the table by the door and locked the door behind him. Then he gently grabbed Greg by the upper arm and led him towards the back of the house. He opened a door that led off the living room, and motioned Greg inside. Greg stopped in his tracks and gasped. "What did you do, Stokes?" The small bedroom had been filled with a crib and two twin beds. A small dresser sat next to the crib, with everything on top of it needed to change a diaper. A few toys and stuffed animals sat on top of the beds, obviously new with the tags still attached. The beds were made up with matching animal themed bedding.

Nick, suddenly unsure, scratched at the stubble forming on his jaw. "I hope it's okay."

Greg let his back hit the wall to the side of the door as he took it in. "Nick, I can't let you do this. This, these kids, they aren't your responsibility. We just started…being together, and….." he shook his head, not sure what to say.

Nick, a little disappointed at Greg's reaction, asked "So, what, you don't want me anymore?" Greg snapped his eyes up at that. "Nick, I do. I just can't ask you to take us in like this…"Greg trailed off, at a loss. "Why," Nick interjected, "you don't think I'm qualified to help with these kids?" "Nick, you're probably more qualified than me, but it's just so much…"

Nick turned away from Greg, facing out the little window above the dresser. "Look, Greg, I know this seems sudden. We haven't really figured anything out yet. I don't want to rush things, but I do want to help you, and those kids. Please let me." He looked back at Greg, imploringly. "You can stay in the guest room, if you want. Then I can just be a friend helping out another friend in a tight situation. And we can continue to go slowly, figure things out. But," he let a small smirk work onto one side of his mouth, "I've been told the fold out couch in the guest room is really uncomfortable."


	20. Chapter 20

What Did You Do?

Chapter Twenty

Nick woke slowly, warm and comfortable. He stretched and yawned, his hands reaching out and finding empty bed. He smiled in contentment as the late evening sun filtered in his window. He knew Greg hadn't gone far, and would be back…he knew it with a gentle certainty that gave him a sense of security he realized he hadn't felt in years. He smiled to himself again and decided a shower was in order. He ran his tongue around his mouth in distaste. A shower and a good tooth brushing.

Twenty minutes later he padded into the kitchen wearing no more than a towel and a smile to find the stereo on low, coffee brewing, and Greg standing in front of the stove cooking. His contentment grew. He stepped behind Greg and wrapped his still damp forearms around his waist, resting his chin on Greg's shoulder as he surveyed the eggs and bacon he was working on. Greg smiled broadly, tipping his chin to his chest and leaning back into Nick. He turned his head minutely and looked at him out of the corner of his eye, taking in the freshly shaved jaw and damp hair. Greg slowly put down the spatula he'd been working the eggs with and turned down the heat under the pan. Then, slowly, he turned in Nick's arms. Greg locked his elbows behind Nick's head and looked him directly, brazenly in the eye as he pulled him in for a kiss, his eyes fluttering shut just as their lips touched. After several moments, he pulled back and held Nick's face between his hands, feeling his smooth cheeks and studying Nick as his gaze tried desperately to convey so many things…thank you, I want you, I'm still scared, and sad, but you make it so much better. I love you. Nick looked back in awe at the raw emotion pouring out of the other man. Not breaking eye contact, he raised Greg's hand in his and left a single kiss on the palm. He smiled. He couldn't interpret everything this man's eyes were saying, yet, but he thought he was going to enjoy figuring it out.

"Hungry?" Greg asked softly.

"Definitely," Nick responded, "but eggs and bacon would be okay too." He gave Greg a wicked grin and waggled his eyebrows at him as he stole a piece of bacon. "Let me put some clothes on." He smirked at Greg's disappointed pout as he left the kitchen.

Breakfast eaten, dishes in the dishwasher, Nick pulled a yellow legal pad out of drawer and scrounged for a working pen. He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat opposite Greg, still nursing his last cup. He wrote two words at the top of the page and underlined them, twice. Greg looked over curiously. "Life raft?" He looked up at Nick, confused. Nick smiled, winked, and explained, "That's me, your official life raft. It helps me to make a list. It seems less overwhelming that way. Let's see, first thing is to get your car from the hospital parking lot. We need to go car shopping for a bigger vehicle for you. I don't mind you driving the Tahoe, but that Jetta really ain't my style, man. You need to pick up clothes from your place." Greg smiled bemusedly as Nick prattled on, organizing their to-do list. Then he sighed and smiled sadly, tracing a random pattern on the table with his thumb. "I need to plan Cassie's funeral, and contact her mom," he said quietly. Nick reached over and wrapped his hand around Greg's forearm to comfort him, then added it to the list. "I want to go see the kids, too, if it's allowed." He checked the watch on Nick's wrist. "I guess that might have to wait until tomorrow." Nick nodded in agreement, a grim smile on his face. "Let's get started on what we can do tonight." They were both off duty until the case was wrapped, on orders from the ADA and the sheriff, so they had a few days to get situated. They finished the last of their coffee and headed out. Nick stopped Greg at the door and handed him a small ring of keys, what looked like a house key, a car key, and a car remote, all attached to a Texas A&M key ring. Greg looked from the key ring in his hand to the man in front of him, confused. "I thought you needed your own set," he said, blushing a bit, but smiling. Greg closed his hand around the keys and held his hand against his chest, smiling broadly. "Thanks," he said blushing a tad himself.

A few hours later Greg was the proud owner of a two year old black Dodge Magnum and a car payment. He grimaced at the car payment-he'd gotten shit for trade in-but he jumped up and down like a kid in a candy store over his new wheels. Nick leaned against his own vehicle with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the station wagon skeptically. "You sure about this, G?" he asked. Bouncing on his heels a bit Greg babbled, "Sha! Are you kidding? This is a combination of the quintessential family icon of the seventies and a badass ghetto blaster. This is a kick ass ride! It'll be great for work, it'll fit all the kids, hell, even my surf board will fit in the back." He smiled broadly, "and it's got a hemi, so the manly men in my life shouldn't feel emasculated driving it." Nick raised an eyebrow at the last bit, "Men, G?" Greg threw his head back and laughed. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the spare key and remote to his new car. He reached into Nick's jacket pocket for his key ring and worked the keys to the Magnum onto Nick's ring. "Only you, Nicky, only you." Nick's face was stoic, but his eyes crinkled in a smile as he took the keys from Greg. "Okay, cowboy. Where to now?" Greg pulled the folded yellow sheet out of Nick's other jacket pocket and studied the list for a moment, head cocked and foot tapping. "I need a shower and a change of clothes. You want to follow me to my place?" Nick nodded. "Cath called while you were in with the financing guy. They cleared the house in Henderson, if you want to go and get some of the kids' stuff…" Greg nodded and bit his lip. He'd seen a lot in his decade or so on the job, but the thought of going back into that house and seeing Cassie's blood all over the living room was daunting. He looked to the man standing before him. Daunting, but necessary. He'd take Nicky home, shower, change, maybe engage in some life-affirming sexual activities…he smirked to himself… and head out to the little house in Henderson with the peeling paint. He would face this particular demon, but Nick had been right…he didn't need to face it alone. That thought warmed him and he gave Nick a glowing smile. "Thanks," he said to him. "For what?" Nick asked. "Just thanks," Greg responded and got into his new car. "See if you can keep up," he smirked, and headed for home.


	21. Chapter 21

What Did You Do?

a/n Sigh. Still not mine.

Chapter Twenty One

The weather was odd today, for Vegas, the air heavy with the impending rain storm. It fit the mood of the day precisely, as a new little family stood at a grave side, surrounded by friends, family, and friends that were as close as family. Most of them were not there to necessarily honor the dead, so much as to support that family. Many of them had not even known her, except by her unfortunate reputation. They knew her like they knew so many other victims that they stood for, from pictures and autopsies and the things and acts and decisions she left behind. Many of them would probably not have even liked her. But they were here, for them.

Greg and Nick stood close together, despite the heat of the day. Brandon rode Nick's hip while his little hand mercilessly crumpled Nick's tie. Greg held Trina comfortably against him, rubbing circles in her back to stop her fussing. Michael stood just in front of them, fidgetting in his little suit.

Greg stood and pretended to listen to the pastor, but his mind wandered over all the events of the last week. Under his vintage aviators he stared out over the cemetery, lost in thought.

Brian Jenkins had stood trial. He eventually cut a deal with the DA to implicate Van Horne, who then quickly withdrew funding of his topline defense team. With court appointed defense that was new to the case, Jenkins hadn't fared well, especially when the DA brought in eye witness testimony. Greg wasn't sure he could forgive the DA for interviewing Michael without Greg's consent, but legally, the children had been wards of DCF at that time, and they'd permitted the interview. It had been chilling to watch, and Greg wished he'd never seen it…

"Can you tell me Michael, if you've ever seen this man?" The attorney showed the camera the picture, then slid it across the table to Michael, who was busy running two toy cars up and down the table. Michael glanced at the picture and looked away, crashing his cars together loudly. "Michael?" Michael didn't look up, but nodded hesitantly. "Can you tell me who he is?" Michael ran one car back and forth as he decided whether or not to answer. "He's Brandon's bicycle father," he said softly. The attorney looked confused for a moment, then "Biological father, you mean?" Michael nodded. "Has he come to your house?" Michael nodded again, eyes still on his cars. "Did he ever hurt you?" Michael furrowed his brow as he shook his head again. "Mommy told me to play hide and seek when he came to our house. I had to make Brandon and Trina hide too, and be quiet. But I peeked." He looked a little guilty. "What did you see? It's all right, you can tell me." Michael looked up at the attorney, "He hurt Mommy." "Was that the day before you came here?" again, Michael nodded, but added "Other times, too. He was mean." The attorney nodded. "How about this man, do you know him?" Michael smiled, "That's Unca Greg." The attorney tucked her dark hair behind her ear, and made a note on her pad. "Has he ever hurt your Mommy, or you?" Michael gave the attorney the coldest look a five year old could. "Unca Greg never hurt us, but sometimes he was mean." Greg had sucked in a horrified breath when he heard that, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "How was he mean?" She asked Michael. Michael blew out an exasperated breath, "He makes me eat carrots. And he won't let me watch TV like Mommy does. Mommy lets me watch TV all the time and she never makes me eat carrots. She let's us have ice cream all the time when we cry." The attorney hid a smile behind her hand. Greg let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Why do you cry?" the attorney asked quietly. Michael worked both his cars back and forth again and bit his lower lip. "Sometimes we get hurt," he said quietly, "Sometimes I make Mommy mad, and she hurt me, but I'm not supposed to tell." His eyes filled with tears and his bottom lipped wobbled precariously before he broke into heartbreaking sobs. "Where's my Mommy? I want my Mommy!" he sobbed. That part right there broke Greg. No matter how poor a mother Cass had been, her kids still loved her. His heart broke for these kids, and tears streamed down his face. Nick, sitting next to him in the court room gallery, handed him his handkerchief and wrapped his arm around the top of Greg's shoulders, his own tears barely kept at bay. No matter how much he hated that they had interviewed Michael, the interview had influenced the jury strongly.

In the end, Jenkins got frustrated with his own attorney and ended up spouting off at the judge, relaying the whole story. Cass had not killed anyone. She had showed up at Stewart's house to ask him for money. Brian had been there to "clean up a little matter" for Miss Von Horne. Stewart had already been put in the suitcase, which Cass had tried to move away from the doorway as she entered his home. When she turned up later on the same floor as Von Horne, Jenkins thought that she had caught on and followed her. He slipped in and killed the three men in the suite after she left. He held off a few days before going after her. He had no idea that she had been in the hotel to try to get money out of Michael's father.

That had been the first time Greg had had to watch that video interview. The second time was at a custody case two days later. The State of Nevada wasn't sure that Greg Sanders, single man, working a dangerous job, was the best guardian for three small children. The video had helped, but the best testimony was from a surprise witness, Cassie's mom. When Greg had first seen her enter the court room, followed by his own mom, he fought a moment of panic. What if she wanted custody? But, instead, she told the court how Greg had always taken care of Cassie, in most cases better than she had, and certainly after she had given up on her wild child daughter. She told the judge she couldn't think of a better person to raise her grandchildren, and hoped sincerely that he would be able to do a better job than she had, with Cassie. Once again, Nick sat at Greg's side and silently handed him his handkerchief.

One point the representative for the state seemed to focus on was Greg's dangerous job and odd hours. She didn't seem to think it was the best situation for a child. He smiled when he was able to wave that concern away.

Catherine had called him and Nick into her office and shut the door, the day after Jenkin's trial. "It's time we discussed how we're going to handle the work situation, with you two being together now." Greg sat back in his chair, dead tired and not looking forward to the conversation. He hated the idea of working opposite shifts from Nick. He'd never see him, and he really enjoyed working with him. Nick rested his temple on his fist and sighed. Catherine edged her hip onto her desk and crossed her arms over her chest, looking serious. "Policy states that you can't supervise Greg, Nick. So," she kept her face stern, "You're being promoted to supervisor of swing." She smiled broadly at Nick as he looked at her in disbelief. Greg clapped him on the shoulder, really happy for him. "Nicky, that's awesome!" Catherine turned a wary eye on Greg. "You, Mister Sanders, are also being promoted." Greg's eyes went wide. "Am I getting Nick's old position, then?" Catherine smiled. "Not exactly. You are being offered the position of supervisor of lab techs and integrity." Greg looked at her, long and hard. "You're pulling me out of the field?" he asked incredulously. Catherine sighed. "Greg, I want you to think about this. You've got three kids on the way. This position is, most of the time, a Monday through Friday, eight to four shift. I would have _killed_ to get that shift when Lindsey was growing up. You will be held accountable for techs on all shifts, so you will be here, occasionally, at other times, and you can be out in the field some, too. I want you to consider this. You don't have to take it. You would be in dangerous situations less often, which is more important with three kids at home depending on you. Plus," she smirked a bit, "stepping back into the lab and taking on the extra responsibility comes with a hefty pay raise." She slid some documents across the desk towards him. He looked at the figures, wide eyed. He looked to Nick, who shrugged at him. "It's your call, but it's a great opportunity." Greg looked back down at the figures. "You have any idea what it's gonna cost to put them through college?" Catherine asked, smirking at him. He shook his head, smiling. "I can only imagine, Catherine. It's a no-brainer. I'll take it. Thank you."

When they brought up his work schedule at the custody hearing, he was able to tell them about his new position and schedule, deflating their case. It also helped that the small court room was packed with law enforcement personnel, all there to back Greg. In the end, he had been awarded full custody. The attorney he had hired had suggested they leave Nick out of the equation, legally, at least, for the time being. They wanted to have the strongest possible case and not cloud the issue with any possible prejudices on the part of the judge. But Greg knew Nick would always be a part of this new family in some way. He smiled at Nick and thought about the conversation, and the moment of doubt he'd had with the man that morning. Nick had mentioned that the crib and beds in the bedroom off his living room were rentals. "Oh." Greg had said softly, furrowing his brow. Rentals. Temporary. He had sighed and frowned at himself as continued to fold the kids' clothes and put them in the little dresser. It's not like they were married or anything, he supposed. Nick had stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Hey," he said softly. "I just didn't know if you wanted to bring their stuff from Henderson, or pick out new stuff. I just wanted to make sure they had something here in the meantime." Greg had smiled to himself. "I'm here with you, until you tell me not to be," Nick said, somehow knowing exactly what Greg needed to hear. After everything they'd been through they could make this work. Greg turned around and wrapped his arms around Nick and squeezed. And silently thanked any deity that was listening for Nick and Tequila.

a/n That is the_ official_ end, but expect epilogue/ficlets soon. Thanks for following along!


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